


Slytherin Harry and the Prisoner of Azkaban

by Authormitchel



Series: SlytherinHarry [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drarry, Harry Potter Rewrite, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban rewrite, M/M, Marauders, Rewrite, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slytherin Harry, Slytherin Harry Potter, Slytherin!Harry, harry potter and the prisoner of azkaban - Freeform, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-03-11 02:00:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 45,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13514409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Authormitchel/pseuds/Authormitchel
Summary: Harry is back for year three. Millicent has a haircut and a new ring. Draco is trying to keep control. Fred and George give Harry a special gift. Snape has a soft side? Ron is still the best friend ever. Pansy is sure that Hermione is up to something, and she's going to find out what. And what exactly do Slytherin's fear?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading and commenting, and staying up to date with this beast of a fic, and its sequels. I hope that you enjoy this story. It is the one in the rewrite, so far, that is the furthest from canon, and I hope that you enjoy it, especially you Marauders lovers out there, I am one of you. This series will be a Drarry, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, pairing eventually so stay tuned. 
> 
> And Jo Rowling, if you are reading this, I have an idea. Call me :) 
> 
> I will update once a week until it is completed. I have already stated GOF, and am making great progress, so we can keep the updates coming quickly. I love and appreciate you all. If you have an ask or question specifically you can comment below or you can send me a message on Tumblr @ thinkmyhappythoughts.tumblr. You can also tweet me @ Mitchel_chelsea. 
> 
> Lastly, I do not own Harry Potter, nor his universe, I merely like being in his presence.

Harry had a blank Hogsmeade slip, no where to sleep and the vision of a ballooned Marge floating away into the night. At least, the last one would give him something to say when people asked him what he did this summer. Unless his luck followed him and he got a notice about him violating the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry for using magic outside of Hogwarts. There were probably people there now, obliviating memories and restoring Marge. 

Harry shivered and looked up and down Magnolia Crescent. What was going to happen now? Expulsion? Could he be arrested and kicked out of the wizarding world? Harry was laying out a rather detailed contingency plan when he felt someone or something watching him. 

“Lumos,” Harry muttered, and a light appeared at the end of his wand. In the bushes, Harry saw, quite distinctly the hulking outline of something very large, with wide gleaming eyes. 

Harry stepped backward. His legs hit his trunk and he fell. His wand flew out of his hand and then a deafening BANG!!. With a yell Harry rolled back onto the pavement, a sudden blinding light taking over his vision. Harry stared up at the large, purple bus that had appeared out of thin air. The lettering on the side spelled, The Knight Bus. 

“What ya doin’ down there?” the attendant asked after he was finished with his introduction. 

“Fell over,” Harry replied. The young guy, Stan, sniggered. 

“’Choo fall over for?” sniggered Stan. 

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” said Harry, annoyed. His jeans were torn and his hand was bleeding, but he hadn’t forgotten about what had startled him the first place. 

“’Choo you lookin’ at?” said Stan. 

“Nothing,” Harry muttered, though he clearly remembered the dog but it was bigger than any dog he had ever seen. He looked around at Stan, whose mouth was slightly open. With a feeling of unease, Harry saw   
Stan’s eyes move to the scar on Harry’s forehead. 

“Woss that on your ‘ead?” said Stan abruptly.

“Nothing,” said Harry quickly, flattening his hair over his scar. If the Ministry of Magic was looking for him, he didn’t want to make it too easy for them. 

“Woss your name?” Stan persisted. 

“Neville Longbottom,” said Harry quickly, saying the first name that came into his head. “What is this thing?” he went on quickly, hoping to distract Stan, “did you say it goes anywhere?”

“Yep,” said Stan proudly, “anywhere you like, long as it’s on land. You did flag us down, dincha? Stuck out your wand ‘and called dincha?”

“Yes,” said Harry quickly. “How much would it be to get me to London?”

“Eleven sickles,” said Stan. “but for fifteen you get ‘ot chocolate, and for fifteen you get an ‘ot water bottle ‘an a toofbrush in the color of your choice.”

Harry rummaged once more in his trunk, extracted his money then boarded the bus. Oddly, there were no seats on the bus, but a half dozen brass beds stood beside curtained windows. Candles were burning   
in brackets by each bed. In one bed, a sleeping wizard was hissing and talking in his sleep. Harry took a bed close to the driver. 

“This is our driver, Ernie Prang. This is Neville Longbottom, Ern,” Stan introduced. Ernie Prang, an elderly wizard wearing very thick glasses nodded to Harry, who tried to subtlety flatten his bangs before sitting on his assigned bed. 

“Take ‘er away Ern,” said Stan. There was another tremendous BANG, and the next moment Harry found himself flat on his bed, thrown backward by the speed of the knight bus, Harry got up and looked out the window. 

“How come the Muggles don’t notice the bus?” 

“Them!” said Stan contemptuously. “Don’ listen properly, do they? Don’ look properly either. Never notice nutting, they don’.” 

Harry looked to his left and spotted an issue of the Prophet. But….that was the man he had seen on the news. Harry held the paper up to the candle light and read “Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban’s fortress, is still eluding capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today”.

“We are doing all we can to recapture Black,” said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, “and we beg the magical community to remain calm.”

Fudge has been criticized by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis. 

“Well, really, I had to don’t you know,” said an irritable Fudge. “Black is mad, magic on muggles. I have the Prime Minister’s assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black’s true identity to anyone. And let’s face it…who’d believe him if he did?” 

While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun, the Magical Community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse. 

Harry looked into the shadowed face of Sirius Black, the only part of that sunken face that seemed alive. 

“Scary lookin’ fing, inee’,” said Stan, who had been watching Harry read. 

“Did he really murder thirteen people with one curse?” 

“Yep,” said Stan, “in front of witnesses and in broad daylight. Big trouble it caused, dinnit, Ern?”

“Ar,” said Ern darkly. 

“Black was a big supporter of You-Know-‘O,” he said. 

“What, Voldemort?” said Harry, without thinking. 

Even Stan’s pimples went white and it wasn’t because Ernie had jerked the steering wheel so hard that a whole farmhouse had to jump aside to avoid the bus. 

“Choo say ‘is name for?” yelped Stan. 

“Sorry,” said Harry hastily. “I forgot.”

“Forgot?” said Stan weakly. “Blimey, my ‘earts goin’ that fast…” Harry gave him a look that said continue. After Stan stopped shaking he went on. 

“Black was a supporter of You-Know-Who. All of his supporters were tracked down, weren’t they, Ern? Most of them knew it was all over wiv You-Know-Who gone, and they came quiet. But not Sirius Black.   
I ‘eard he thought ‘ed be second in command once You-Know-‘O had taken over. They cornered Black in the middle of a street full of muggles an’ Black took out ‘is wand and ‘e blasted the street apart, an’ a   
wizard got it, an’ so did a dozen Muggles that got in the way. An’ you know what Black did then?” Stan continued in a dramatic whisper. 

“What?” said Harry. 

“Laughed,” said Stan. “Jus’ stood there an’ laughed. An when reinforcements from the Ministry got here, ‘e went wiv ‘em as anything still laughing ‘is ‘ead off. Cos’ ‘e’s mad, inee, Ern? Inee mad?”

“If he weren’t when he went to Azkaban, he will be now,” said Ern in his slow voice. “I’d blow meself up before I set foot in that place. Serves him right, mind you…after what he did…”

“They ‘ad a job coverin’ it up, din’ they, Ern?” Stan said. “’Ole street blown up an’ all them Muggles dead. What was it they said ‘ad ‘appened Ern?”

“Gas explosion,” grunted Ernie. 

“An’ now e’s out,” said Stan, examining the newspaper picture of Black’s gaunt face again. “Never been a breakout from Azkaban before, ‘as there, Ern? Beats me ‘ow ‘e did it. Frightenin’, eh? Mind, I don’t fancy ‘is chances against them Azkaban guards eh, Ern?”

Ernie suddenly shivered. 

“Talk about summat else, Stan, there’s a good lad. Them Azkaban guards give me the collywobbles”

Stan put the paper away reluctantly, and Harry leaned against the window of the Knight Bus, feeling worse than ever. He couldn’t imagine what Stan would be telling future passengers about him in the future. 

Hadn’t Harry done the same thing Sirius Black had done, broken Wizarding Law? Would he end up in Azkaban for doing what he did to Aunt Marge? Harry would never forget the look on Hagrid’s face when he   
came back from Azkaban? The terror when he found out that he was going in the first place, and Hagrid was one of the bravest people that Harry knew. How many times had he willing went into the Forbidden Forest, and dealt with the creatures that lived within? 

Soon, the bus stopped at a familiar place, The Leaky Cauldron. Harry grabbed his trunk and got off the bus. 

“There you are, Harry,” said a voice. Before Harry could turn, he felt a hand on his shoulder. At the same time, Stan shouted, “Blimey! Ern, come ‘ere! Come ‘ere!” 

Harry looked up at the owner of the hand, and into the face of one Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself. Stan leapt onto the pavement beside them. “What did ya call Neville, Minister?” he said   
excitedly. 

“Neville?” the Minister repeated, frowning. “This is Harry Potter.” 

“I knew it!” Stan shouted gleefully at an exhausted looking Fudge. 

“Guess ‘oo Neville is, Ern! E’s ‘Arry Potter! I can see ‘is scar!”

“Yes,” sad Fudge testily, before thanking Stan and Ernie and leading Harry into the Leaky Cauldron. Tom, the owner, asked them if they needed anything. 

“Perhaps a pot of tea,” said Fudge, who still hadn’t let go of Harry’s shoulder. 

There was a loud scraping and puffing from behind them and Stan and Ern appeared, carrying Harry’s trunk and Hedwig’s cage and looking around excitedly. 

“Thanks,” said Harry, pre-empting Stan’s obvious questions. 

“Bye, Neville!” called Stan as Fudge led him into a small parlor. 

“Sit down, Harry,” said Fudge, indicating a chair by the fire. “Harry, I am Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic.” Harry nodded, though of course, he already knew; he had seen Fudge once before last year in   
Hagrid’s hut. Tom returned wearing an apron over his nightshirt and bearing a tray of tea and crumpets. 

Harry wondered who else he had misplaced by his late night travels. “Well, Harry,” said Fudge, pouring out the tea. “You’ve had us all in a right flap, I don’t mind telling you. Running away from your aunt and uncle’s house like that! I’d started to think…but you’re safe, and that’s what matters. Eat, Harry,” he ordered, pushing a crumpet toward him. 

“Now, you’ll be pleased to know that two members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad were dispatched to Pivet Drive and Ms. Margorie Dursley has been returned to her normal size.” Harry didn’t want to tell the man that he couldn’t care less. 

“And she now has no memory of the incident.”

Harry also had to bite his tongue at Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon agreeing to take him back next summer as long as he stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas and Easter. 

“They are extremely angry, but that should lessen by next summer.”

Harry seriously doubted it. He knew he’d be in for it, but decided to put it out of his mind until then. 

“And I’m sure you are fond of each other,,,er….very deep down. So, all remains is to decide where you’re going to spend the last three weeks of your vacation. I’d suggest taking a room here.” 

“But sir,” Harry interrupted. “What about my punishment? The Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry.” 

There was no point in putting it off.

“Punishment?” Fudge blinked. “Oh, dear boy, we’re not going to punish you for a little thing like that!” cried Fudge. “It was an accident. We’d be quite busy if we sent everyone to Azkaban who accidentally blew   
up one of their family members.”

“But sir,” none of this made sense. “Last year, I got an official warning because a house elf preformed magic in my house. The Ministry of Magic said I’d be expelled from Hogwarts if it happened again.”

Fudge shifted in his seat, looking supremely awkward. 

“Circumstances change, Harry, we have to take into account several…well, in the present env… Surely, you don’t want to be expelled?” 

“Of course not, sir,” said Harry. “Well, then, there we have it,” said Fudge, offering him a crumpet like that was all that needed to be said. Fudge escorted him to his room where Hedwig was waiting for him. 

“Hey, girl,” he greeted her. 

“Smart owl you have there,” chuckled Tom. “She arrived five minutes after you did. If there’s anything you need, Mr. Potter, don’t hesitate to ask.”

He gave another bow and left. 

Harry sat on his bed for a long time, absentmindedly stroking Hedwig. As the sun began to rise Harry could hardly believe that he had left Pivet Drive only a few hours ago, that he wasn’t expelled, and that he was   
now facing three completely Dursley-free weeks. 

And without removing his glass, he slumped back onto his bed and fell asleep. 

 

Harry wasn’t used to having so much freedom. He could do what he wanted and eat what he wanted as long as he stayed neared Diagon Alley. He had promised Fudge and he saw no need to break that promise, but everywhere he went he kept hearing the same thing. Sirius Black. “Personally, I won’t let any of the children out alone until he’s back in Azkaban,” Harry heard one diner saying at dinner. 

After stopping by Gringotts, he overheard a few wizards speaking excitedly about something near Quality Quidditch Supplies. Harry walked with them. 

“It’s the fastest broom in the world, isn’t it, Dad?” squeaked a boy younger than Harry, who was swinging of his father’s arm. 

“Irish International Side’s just put in an order for seven of these beauties!” the proprietor of the shop told the crowd. “And they’re favorites for the World Cup.”

Harry moved forward to look at the sign. 

THE FIREBOLT

Harry read the sign to himself. State of the art racing broom, superfine handle of ash, top speed 150 miles an hour, Price upon request.

Harry didn’t like to think how much gold the Firebolt would cost. He had never wanted anything as much in his whole life, but he had never lost a match on the school brooms before and it wasn’t like he was   
playing anymore anyways. Harry didn’t ask for the price that day, but he did return, almost every day after that, just to look at the Firebolt. 

There were, however, things that Harry needed to buy. Potions ingredients and he had to stop off by Madam Malkins to get some new school robes, since his were now several inches to short. Next, Harry had to get his school books. He would be starting Divination and Care of Magical Creatures this year, and didn’t quite know how he felt about the extra classes. 

As the days went by Harry started looking wherever he went for any sign of his friends. He had already ran into Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan who had also stopped by to ogle at the new Firebolt. He had also ran into Neville Longbottom outside of Flourish and Blotts. Harry would have stopped to chat, but he had seen Neville’s rather formidable looking grandmother scolding Neville for apparently losing his books list. Harry took his out of his pocket, and dropped it outside of the door. At least, maybe then, if Neville forgot it at home, he might be saved. 

The last day of the holiday, Harry got up, and found an owl outside his window. He opened the letter at read it quickly. It was from Marcus Flint, Harry’s old Quidditch Captain. 

Practice is the first weekend after classes return. If you haven’t been preparing this summer like I instructed, I will know and you will pay. 

The letter was signed with two letters M and F. On another piece of paper, was a personal note to Harry. 

Snape has lifted your suspension. You will be coming back as Seeker on a temporary basis. Owl me if you don’t think you can keep up. Don’t waste my time, Potter. 

Harry could almost hear Flint’s gruff voice and hurriedly wrote out a reply and sent it with the large black owl who had been watching him rather cautiously from the window. 

“There you go,” he said and watched the hulking owl fly off into the distance. He had to get into town, the Firebolt was waiting. He was wondering where he’d have lunch, when someone yelled his name and he turned. 

“Harry! HARRY!” 

It was Ron and Hermione, sitting outside Florean Fortesue’s Ice Cream Parlor. Ron, too, looked like he had to stop by Madam Malkin’s shop. Harry didn’t think it was possible, but Ron was even taller than he was last year. 

“Finally,” said Ron, grinning at Harry as he sat down. “We went to the Leaky Cauldron, but they said you’d left, and we went to Flourish and Blotts, mate, we’ve been everywhere.”

“Ah,” Harry started to explain then. “Wait, how did you know I was staying at the Leaky?” 

“Dad,” said Ron simply. 

That’s it, then, Mr. Weasley worked at the Ministry and definitely would have heard about what happened to Aunt Marge, but then wouldn’t that mean? 

“Did you really blow up your aunt, Harry?” said Hermione in a very serious tone.

Harry simply nodded under her glare, while Ron roared with laughter beside her. 

“It’s not funny, Ron,” said Hermione sharply. “Honestly, I’m amazed Harry wasn’t expelled.”

“So am I,” admitted Harry. “I thought they were going to send me Azkaban.” He looked at Ron. “Your dad doesn’t know why Fudge let me off, does he?”

“Probably ‘cause it’s you, isn’t it?” shrugged Ron, still chuckling. “Famous Harry Potter and all that. I’d hate to see what the Ministry’d do to me if I blew up an aunt. Mind you, they’d have to dig me up first,   
because Mom would’ve killed me. Anyway, you can ask Dad yourself this evening. We’re staying at the Leaky Cauldron tonight too! So you can come to King’s Cross with us tomorrow! Hermione’s there as well.”

“Wait,” said Ron, pulling something from his pocket. “Look at this. Brand-new wand. Fourteen inches, willow, containing unicorn tail-hair.”

Harry nodded, glad his friend had gotten a new wand after the Willow incident last year. “And we’ve got all our books,” Ron said. 

“Whoa, Hermione, why do you have all these extras?” Harry asked her. 

“Well, I’m taking more classes than you, aren’t I?” said Hermione. “Those are my books for Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, Study of Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies….”

“But you’re Muggle-born!” exclaimed Ron. “You mom and dad are Muggles. You already know all about Muggles.”

“Yes,” huffed Hermione, like she had already explained this once. “But it’ll be fascinating to study them from the Wizarding point of view,” she said, and her tone reminded him sharply of Millicent. 

“Are you planning to sleep at all this year, Hermione?” asked Harry, as they walked on. Hermione had gotten some birthday money and had wanted to stop off and see about getting herself an owl. Harry knew   
of Ron’s family’s trip to Egypt this summer, apparently Mr. Weasley had won something at the Ministry, but he didn’t know that the trip had worn out Ron’s rat, Scabbers. 

The group stopped off at a magical creature shop to see if anything could be done for Scabbers and so Hermione could look for an owl that she had been wanting. As Hermione headed to the back of the shop   
off in search of a sale’s assistant, Harry went with Ron to the counter. 

“It’s my rat,” he told the witch. “He’s been a bit off color ever since I brought him back from Egypt.”

The witch pulled a pair of heavy black spectacles from her pocket as Ron placed Scabbers on the counter. 

Like nearly everything Ron owned, Scabbers the rat was second hand, once belonging to Percy, and a bit battered at that. Next to the glossy rats in the cage, he looked especially woebegone. 

“How old is the rat?” 

“Dunno,” said Ron. “Quite old. He used to belong to my brother.”

“What powers does he have?” said the witch, examining Scabbers closely. 

“Er….” The truth was that Scabbers had never shown the faintest trace of interesting powers. The witch’s eyes moved from Scabber’s tattered left ear to his front paw, which had a toe missing, and tutted loudly. 

“He’s been through the mill, this one,” she said. 

“He was like that when Percy gave him to me,” said Ron defensively. “An ordinary or common garden rat like this can’t be expected to live longer than three years or so, but if you were looking for something a bit   
more hard-wearing, you might like one of these.”

Harry scoffed at the sale’s assistant. 

“He doesn’t want a new rat,” Harry said reading Ron’s expression. 

“Yeah,” said Ron, thankful to Harry for backing him up against the pushy sale’s assistant. 

After refusing to buy a new rat, the witch offered up a bottle of rat tonic. 

“Okay,” said Ron. “How much….OUCH!”

Ron buckled as something huge and orange came soaring from the top of the highest cage, landed on his head and then propelled itself, spitting madly, at Scabbers. 

“NO, CROOKSHANKS, NO!” cried the witch, but Scabbers shot from between her hands like a bar of soap, landed splay-legged on the floor, and then scampered for the door. Scabbers raced out the door and   
Harry and Ron followed. After finding Scabbers near a bin outside of Quality Quidditch Supplies, Ron pocketed the shaking rat into his pocket. 

Harry turned around at the sound of Hermione’s voice calling to them, and his mouth went slack jawed. 

“Beautiful, isn’t he?” said Hermione glowing at the enormous orange cat that she had cradled in her arms. 

“You bought that monster?” said Ron, his mouth hanging open, matching Harry’s. “Hermione, that thing nearly scalped me!” 

“He didn’t mean to, did you, Crookshanks?” said Hermione. 

“And what about Scabbers?” said Ron, pointing at the lump in his chest pocket. “He needs rest and relaxation if he’s ever going to get better and how’s he going to do that with that thing around?” 

“That reminds me, you forgot your rat tonic,” said Hermione, slipping the small red bottle into Ron’s hand. “And stop worrying, Crookshanks will be sleeping in my dormitory and Scabbers in yours, what’s the   
problem. Poor Crookshanks, that witch said he’d been in there for ages; no one wanted him.”

“I wonder why?” said Ron sarcastically as they set off toward the Leaky Cauldron. 

They found Mr. Weasley sitting at the bar, reading the Daily Prophet, Sirius Black’s photo on the cover. 

“Harry!” he said, smiling as he looked up. “How are you?” 

“Fine, thanks,” said Harry as they joined Mr. Weasley. 

“They still haven’t caught him, then?” he asked. 

“No,” said Mr. Weasley, looking extremely grave. “They’ve pulled us all off our regular jobs at the Ministry to try and find him, but no luck so far.”

“Would we get a reward if we caught him?” asked Ron. “It’d be good to get some more money….”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ron,” said Mr. Weasley, who on closer inspection looked very strained. “Black’s not going to be caught by a thirteen-year-old wizard. It’s the Azkaban guards who’ll get him back, you   
mark my words.”

At that moment Mrs. Weasley entered the bar, laden with shopping bags and followed by the twins, Fred and George, who were about to start their fifth year at Hogwarts; the newly elected Head Boy, Percy;   
and the Weasley’s youngest child and only girl, Ginny. Ginny waved at Harry, while Percy walked straight over to Harry and took his hand. 

“Good to see you, Harry. I hope you’re well.”

“Very well, thanks, Percy,” Harry replied with a smile, remembering the events of last year. Percy looked better and as Fred and George threw themselves over Percy’s shoulders to get to Harry to say hello, it   
looked like that relationship was still running smoothly, too. 

“Harry!” said Fred. “Simply splendid to see you, old boy….”

“Marvelous,” said George, pushing Fred aside and seizing Harry’s hand in turn. He then pulled Harry and Percy into a hug. 

“No more snakes this year, boys, I don’t think my poor heart can take it. I mean, except for you Harry,” George joked and both Harry and Percy rolled their eyes. 

“That’s enough,” said Mrs. Weasley, depositing her shopping in an empty seat. “Hello, Harry, dear. I suppose you’ve heard our exciting news?” She pointed to the brand-new silver badge on Percy’s chest. “Second Head Boy in the family!” she said, swelling with pride. 

“And last,” Fred muttered under his breath. 

“I don’t doubt that,” said Mrs. Weasley, frowning suddenly. “I notice they haven’t made you two prefects.”

“What do we want to be prefects for?” said George, looking revolted at the very idea. “I’d take all the…..”

“Those two?” a voice said from the top of the stairs. “Dumbledore would have had to truly lose it to make you two anything close to prefects.” 

Millicent Bulstrode walked down the stairs, quickly, and Harry moved forward to greet her. He hadn’t seen her all summer and boy had she changed. Her once long brown hair had been cut shoulder length and   
though she had it parted down the middle Harry could see that underneath her hair, that both sides had been shaved. She flipped it over to the left side, and Harry saw that he was right. Not only that, but the very ends of her hair had been charmed to be a sunny blonde color. No, longer did she look like the prim Pureblood girl that she had last year, but a wicked witch. She almost looked Muggle. 

“Hey, Harry,” she said, and Harry hugged her, his arms going around her still large frame. 

“Millicent,” Harry sighed, just happy to see his friend again. He released a breath, Millicent putting him at ease the way few other people could. 

“Your hair,” said Harry. 

“Oh, yeah,” she said, touching her hair like she had forgotten that it had changed at all. “My mother nearly had a coronary, but it was almost time for school anyway so I figured why not. I know it’s not blowing up   
my aunt, but a little bit of teenage rebellion never killed anyone, yet,” she smiled and Harry laughed. 

“What is it you were saying, Bulstrode, we could be prefects if we wanted to,” said Fred, moving towards them.

“Yeah, right, Weasley, and this place isn’t the hovel I think it is.” Millicent looked around the rather dingy looking tables and chairs in the Leaky and shuddered. 

“Then why are you here?” Fred asked. “Believe me when I say no one would miss you.”  
Millicent laughed. “Little Ginny tells it different, there, Freddie. She said you couldn’t stop talking about me this summer.” 

George behind Fred started giggling into his shoulder. 

“Ha…ha,” Fred scoffed. “Only discussing horrible ways for you to fall down a well, or get eaten by a dragon or carried off by pixies….” Fred listed. 

“Oh, Freddie,” Millicent said. “Sweet talk will get you nowhere.” 

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked her before Fred could come up with anything else. “The Minister asked me too,” she said. “Someone had to be on call to watch the dangerous Harry Potter, and while I tried to pass on those duties, Fudge thought I was the only one fit for the job.”

“Ha, Ha,” mocked Harry. He got the feeling that Millicent wasn’t telling him everything, but regardless, it was still nice to see his friend. Then Harry noticed a rather extravagant looking emerald and gold ring on her finger. 

“New jewelry?” he asked. 

And Mrs. Weasley looked over. 

“Oh, dear,” she said to Millicent. “Millicent that is simply beautiful. Congratulations, my dear.”

“It’s simply barbaric,” said Fred, clearly disgusted by the small, expensive looking ring. 

“Why the congratulations?” asked Harry. “And the hatred? Isn’t is just a ring?”

Millicent rolled her eyes while simultaneously glaring at Fred. Harry would have to ask her how she did that later. 

“It’s a pre-bonding ring,” said Millicent. 

“Malfoy gave you that?” Harry asked, suddenly thinking the ring wasn’t that nice after all. 

“Yes,” said Millicent simply. “Gifts are normally exchanged when a marriage arrangement has gone on for so long. It’s a sign that both parties are taking things seriously. Draco sent it to me over the summer,   
and I haven’t taken it off since.”

“It’s traditional,” said Mrs. Weasley.

“It’s ridiculous,” said Fred. 

“Now, now, Fred,” said George. “It’s just a ring.”

“It’s not,” said Fred. “If you’re telling him, you might as well tell him everything that it can do. Tell little Harry here, that not only that you haven’t taken it off, but that you can’t take it off.”

“What?” asked Harry, shocked. “Malfoy cursed that ring onto your finger.”

“No,” said Millicent indignantly. “I can take it off just fine.”

“Yeah, but if you do then that automatically means that your uh, arrangement is broken.”

So, the C word was taboo for the Weasleys too. 

“Which is why I won’t be taking it off, my parents decided that I should accept this..gift, so I have done so…”

“Like the precious little pureblood princess that you are.”

“I’m the princess?” said Millicent. “Really, because out of the two of us I would say that you are the….”

And before the pair could verge off into another shouting match, Harry cut in. 

“What else does it do?” he asked. 

“It’s imbued with a number of charms and enchantments,” explained Millicent. “A mild protection spell, a notification spell, a….”

“A tracking spell,” Fred supplied. “That means that no matter where she is, that Malfoy can find her. In case she gets spooked by the little ghoul and decides to make it a run for it before he can cattle her down   
the aisle.”

“But that’s,” started Harry. “That’s…”

“Barbaric? Something out of the middle ages? Something no normal person would agree to?” 

Millicent rolled her eyes, and George, wisely, changed the subject. 

“How are we getting to King’s Cross tomorrow, Dad?” asked George as they all dug into a sumptuous chocolate pudding at dinner that evening. 

“The Ministry’s providing a couple of cars,” said Mr. Weasley. 

Everyone looked up at him. 

“Why?” said Percy curiously. 

“Yeah,” said Fred. “I know certain parents treat their Slytherin’s preciously, but I didn’t know they hire out cars from the Ministry just to make sure they can get to school alright.”

Millicent just smiled at him, mouth full of chocolate pudding. 

“Well, as we haven’t got one anymore,” said Mr. Weasley, “….and as I work there, they’re doing me a favor.”

His voice was casual, but Harry couldn’t help noticing that Mr. Weasley’s ears had gone red, just like Ron’s did when he was under pressure. Millicent looked at him from the corner of her eye, and he could tell that she, too, thought something else wasn’t right. 

“Good thing, too,” said Mrs. Weasley briskly. “Do you realize how much luggage you’ve all got between you? A nice sight you’d be on the Muggle Underground…You are all packed, aren’t you?” 

“Ron hasn’t put all his new things in his trunk yet,” said Percy, in a long-suffering voice. “He’s dumped them on my bed.”

“You’d better go and pack properly, Ron, because we won’t have time in the morning,” Mrs. Weasley called down the table. Ron scowled at Percy. 

As Harry was walking to his room, he overhead some yelling from Percy and Ron’s room. “You’re not going anywhere until you’ve found my badge!” yelled Percy. 

His Head Boy badge was missing and apparently so was Scabber’s rat tonic. Harry offered to head back downstairs and see if he could find it for Ron. 

Harry was halfway along the passage to the bar, which was now very dark, when he heard another pair of angry voices coming from the parlor. A second later, he recognized them as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s. He hesitated not wanting them to know he’d heard them arguing, when the sound of his own name made him stop then move closer to the parlor door. 

“….makes no sense not to tell him,” Mr. Weasley was saying. “Harry’s got a right to know. I’ve tried to tell Fudge, but be insists on treating Harry like a child. He’s thirteen years old….” 

“He’s happy not knowing,” Mrs. Weasley replied. “And safer.”

“I don’t want him to be miserable, I just want him to be on guard!” returned Mr. Weasley. “You know what Harry and the boys are like. After everything the last two years. But Harry can’t do things like that this year. When I think what could have happened to him that night he ran away from home! If the Knight Bus hadn’t picked him up, I’m prepared to bet he would have been dead before the Ministry found him.”

“But he’s not dead, he’s fine, so what’s the point, he’ll be safe at Hogwarts.”

“Molly, they say Sirius Black is mad, and maybe he is, but he was clever enough to escape Azkaban, and that’s supposed to be impossible. It’s been a month and I don’t care what Fudge keeps telling the prophet, we are no closer to catching him now then we were then. As far as Hogwarts, if Black can break out of Azkaban he can certainly break into Hogwarts.”

“But no one’s really sure that Black’s after Harry…” 

There was a thud on the wood, and Harry was sure Mr. Weasley had banged his fist on the table. 

“Molly, they didn’t want to report it in the press to keep it quiet, but Fudge was at Azkaban the night Black escaped. The guards told Fudge that Black’s been talking in his sleep for a while now. Always the   
same words. ‘He’s at Hogwarts…he’s at Hogwarts.’ Black is deranged, Molly, and he wants Harry dead. If you ask me he thinks murdering Harry will bring You-Know-Who back into power. Black lost everything the night Harry stopped You-Know-Who, and he’s had twelve years in Azkaban to brood on that…”

“Well, Arthur,” said Mrs.Weasley. “You have to do what you think is right, but you’re forgetting Albus Dumbledore. I don’t think anything could hurt Harry at Hogwarts while Dumbledore’s headmaster. I suppose he knows about all this?”

“Of course he knows. We asked him if he minds the Azkaban guards stationing themselves around the entrance to the school ground. He wasn’t happy about it, but he agreed. Dumbledore isn’t too fond of the Azkaban guards. Nor am I, if it comes to that, but when you’re dealing with a wizard like Black, you sometimes have to join forces with those you’d rather avoid.”

“If they save Harry….”

“…then I will never say another word against them,” said Mr. Weasley wearily. Harry heard some chairs move, and scurried off down the stairs where he found the rat tonic. By the time he returned to the room, Percy had found his badge underneath all of Ron’s things. Harry handed Ron the tonic and went to bed. 

So Sirius Black was after him. That explained everything. Fudge had been lenient with him because he was so relieved to find him alive. He’d made Harry promise to stay in Diagon where plenty of wizards were there to keep an eye on him. And they were getting Ministry cars the next day because Harry was with them.

Harry laid in bed, and wondered why he didn’t feel more scared. Sirius Black had murdered thirteen people with one curse; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley obviously thought harry would be panicked if he knew the truth, but Harry agreed with Mrs. Weasley. Only a fool would try to get into Hogwarts with Albus Dumbledore still there. Didn’t people always say that Dumbledore was the only person Lord Voldemort had ever been afraid of? Surely Black as Voldemort’s right hand man, would be just as frightened of him?

Then there were the guards everyone kept talking back, surely Black’s chances at getting by all of that was remote if not impossible. 

No, now, all Harry could think about was that his chances of going to Hogsmeade now seemed even worse than they did before. 

The journey to King’s Cross was very uneventful compared with Harry’s trip on the Knight Bus. The Ministry drivers were very efficient in getting them out of the cars, loaded up and to the platform. 

“Right then,” said Mr. Weasley, glancing around them. “Let’s do this in pairs, as there are so many of us,” he added. “I’ll go through first with Harry.” 

They strode toward the wall and in a moment, they had fallen sideways through the solid metal onto platform nine and three-quarters and looked up to see the Hogwarts Express, a scarlet steam engine   
steadily puffing smoke. 

Ginny and Millicent were through next. Then Percy and Ron. 

“Ah, there’s Penelope!” said Percy, smoothing his hair and going pink again. Harry looked to Millicent to see if she already knew about this, but she was too busy talking to Ginny to notice Percy striding over toward   
a girl with long, curly hair, his chest thrust out so that she couldn’t miss his shiny badge. 

Once every one had joined them, Mrs. Weasley kissed all her children, then Hermione and Millicent, and finally, Harry. He was embarrassed, but really quite pleased, when she gave him an extra hug. 

“Do take care, won’t you, Harry?” she said as she straightened up, her eyes oddly bright. Then she opened her enormous handbag, and said, “I’ve made you all sandwiches….Here you are, Ron…no, they’re not corned beef…..Fred…..Fred….”

“Harry,” said Mr. Weasley quietly. “come over here a moment.”

He jerked his head toward a pillar, and Harry followed him behind it, leaving the others crowded around a distracted Mrs. Weasley. 

Mr. Weasley looked nervous. 

“Harry, there’s something….”

“It’s all right, Mr. Weasley,” said Harry. “I already know.”

“You know? How could you know?” 

“I…er…I heard you and Mrs. Weasley talking last night. I couldn’t help hearing,” Harry added quickly. “Sorry…”

“That’s not how I wanted you to find out. Harry, you must be very scared….”

“I’m not,” said Harry sincerely. “Really,” he added. “I’m not trying to be a hero, but seriously, Sirius Black can’t be worse than Voldemort, can he?”

Mr. Weasley flinched at the name, but didn’t say anything. 

“Harry, I knew you were, well, made of stronger stuff that Fudge seems to think, and I’m obviously pleased that you’re not scared, but….”

“Arthur,” called Mrs. Weasley. “Time to go.”

“He’s coming, Molly!” said Mr. Weasley, but he turned back to Harry and kept talking in a lower and more hurried voice. “Listen, I want you to give me your word…”

“,that I’ll be good and stay in the castle? Of course, Mr.”

“No, Harry, I need you to swear to me that you won’t go looking for Black.”

Harry stared. “What?”

There was a loud whistle. Guards were walking along the train, slamming the doors shut. 

“Promise me, Harry,” said Mr. Weasley, talking more quickly still, “that whatever happens that you won’t go looking for…”

“Why would I?”

“Swear to me that no matter what you hear…”

“Arthur quickly!” cried Mrs. Weasley. 

The train had started to move. Nodding to Mr. and then Mrs. Weasley, Harry ran to the compartment door and Ron threw it open for him and Harry jumped in. Hermione, Ron, Millicent and Harry set off down the   
train, looking for a compartment that was empty. 

“Oh no,” said Ron. “I’m not sharing an apartment with that thing,” Ron said eyeing Crookshanks. 

“And where will I sit,” asked Ginny. 

“Somewhere else,” answered Ron. “Go away, Ginny.”

“You don’t have to be so nasty,” Hermione said to Ron as she trotted off after Ginny, Crookshanks looking over his owner’s shoulder at a sorry looking Ron. 

“Smooth, Ronald,” said Millicent. 

“I…. I didn’t mean Hermione, just Gin, and that blasted cat.”

Harry patted him on the shoulder. It was too late now. Harry, Millicent and Ron headed down the train, until they found a compartment with only one occupant. The Hogwarts Express was usually reserved for   
students and they had never seen an adult there before, except for the witch who worked the trolley. 

The stranger was wearing an extremely shabby set of robes that had been darned in several places. He looked ill and exhausted. Though quite young, his light brown hair was flecked with gray.

“Who d’you reckon he is?” Ron hissed as they all sat down. 

“Caught illiteracy from your brother Weasley? Potter we better leave before we catch it as well.”

“What are you talking about Bulstrode?”

“His name is Professor R.J. Lupin,” said Millicent. “It’s on his case,” she clarified, pointing at the luggage rack over the man’s head, where a small, battered case was held together with large quantities of nearly   
knotted string sat. The name Professor R.J. Lupin was stamped across one corner in peeling letters. 

“Good thing you decided to be rude to both your sister and Hermione, no need to hear Granger whinge all year because she can’t read her homework.”

“Very funny,” Ron said, though he looked properly chastised. 

“Wonder what he teaches?” said Ron, frowning at Professor Lupin’s pallid profile. 

“Gee, Ronald, I don’t….” Millicent started, but stopped herself, noticing Ron’s tinted cheeks. 

“Probably Defense,” said Harry, filing the silence. 

“I hope he’s up to it, since you Gryffindors were mainly responsible for driving away the last one.”

“Hey,” said Ron, laughing. “One Slytherin was involved in that too.”

Harry shrugged. “Do you think he’s really asleep?” 

“Looks like it,” said Millicent. “Why?”

“Because I have something to tell you guys.”

Harry told them all that he had overheard last night. 

Millicent looked decidedly unimpressed. 

“Surely you have enough sense not to go looking for the mad man right, Harry?”

Harry nodded. 

“Well, trouble does usually find him…”

“And without my help,” defended Harry.

Even Ron had to roll his eyes at that one. 

Then their conversation had turned to Hogsmeade. “I can’t wait to check out Honeydukes.”

“What’s that?” Harry asked. 

“It’s this sweetshop,” said Ron, a dreamy look coming over his face. “where they’ve got everything….Pepper Imps…they make you smoke at the mouth, and great fat Chocoballs fullof strawberry mouse and clotted   
cream, and really excellent sugar quills, which you can suck in class and just look like you’re thinking what to write next…”

“Yeah,” said Millicent. “It will be nice to get out of school for a bit and explore Hogsmeade.”

“’Spect it will,” said Harry heavily. “You’ll have to tell me when you’ve found out.”

“What d’you mean?” said Ron.

“I can’t go. The Dursleys didn’t sign my permission form, and Fudge wouldn’t either.”

A horrified look came across Ron’s face, but Millicent barked out a laugh before quieting when she looked over at the sleeping Professor.

“You really asked the Minister to find your permission slip. Oh, Potter, you were really milking that whole missing thing weren’t you?”

Ron seemed to be stuck. “But, but….maybe someone else can sign for you or Fred and George, they know plenty of secret passages.”

“Yeah, and what about Black or do you really think you two could hold him off.”

Ron fumbled. 

“He’s already killed a whole bunch of people in the middle of a crowded street. Do you really think he’d not be able to do it again?”

He might not be very good company, but Professor Lupin’s presence in their compartment had its uses. Midafternoon, just as it had started to rain, blurring the rolling hills outside the window, they heard footsteps in the corridor again when Draco Malfoy, flanked by his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle appeared outside the compartment doors. 

“Ms. Bulstrode,” Malfoy nodded primly. “Thank you for the gift that you have bestowed upon my house. It is most welcome.” “You’re welcome, Mr. Malfoy,” Millicent replied, sweetly, her tone dulled by what Harry assumed was more tradition. Then turning to the others she greeted, “Vincent. Hey, Greg.”  
“Hey, Millie,” Gregory Goyle replied while Vincent nodded at her, clearly not pleased with her choice of company in Ron and Harry. Malfoy then turned to Harry. 

“I assume you got Flint’s owl, Potter. Back on the team, congratulations.”   
Harry huffed. “Thanks, Malfoy.” The forced interaction becoming quite awkward.

“I’ll be moving to Chaser, Flint says I’ve got the speed for it,” said Malfoy. Harry simply nodded, knowing Malfoy couldn’t be that pleased at having to change positions. Crabbe looked like he wanted to say something else, but then Professor Lupin snorted loudly. 

“Who’s that?” Crabbe asked. 

“New teacher,” said Millicent. “but, what were you going to say there Crabbe.” Millicent reached a hand up and flipped her hair over to the side, revealing the shaved head beneath it. Crabbe, obviously remembering   
the trouble he had last year, turned and bit his lip to keep his mouth shut. 

“Nothing,” Malfoy said, putting his hand on Crabbe’s shoulder. “Come on,” he muttered to Crabbe and Goyle before disappearing down the train corridor. 

“What on Earth did you get Malfoy that could possible match that thing?” Ron asked, gesturing to Millicent’s traditional, barbaric, tracking device, uh, ring.

“Tea from the shores of New Zealand. Completely over priced, but something I thought would do Malfoy a load of good.”

Harry huffed. 

“I can’t believe you spent anything on that git,” said Harry. 

“Oh,” said Millicent in a placating tone. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Potter. If you like I’m sure my father would throw Malfoy over if you were interested in me.”

“Your father,” said Ron, giggling. “I’d be surprised if Malfoy’s father wouldn’t throw you over if Harry decided that he wanted the slimy git. He’d be a fool not to take you mate,” said Ron, and Harry clapped his   
friend on the back for that rather disturbing show of loyalty. 

“Thanks, mate,” 

Harry looked over at Lupin to make sure that he was still asleep. 

The rain thickened as the train sped up farther north; the windows were now a solid, shimmering gray, which gradually darkened until lanterns flickered into life all along the corridors and over the luggage racks.   
The train rattled, the rain hammered, the wind roared, but still, Professor Lupin slept. 

“We can’t be there yet,” said Millicent. 

“So, why’re we stopping?”

The train was getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and rain sounded louder than ever against the windows. 

Harry, who was nearest the door, got up to look into the corridor. All along the carriage, heads were sticking curiously out of their compartments. Then, the train came to a stop with a jolt and all the lights   
flickered out. 

“What’s going on?” said Ron’s voice from behind Harry. 

“Ouch, you oaf!” shouted Millicent. “That was my foot!”

Harry felt his way back to his seat.

“D’you think we’ve broken down?”

“Dunno…..”

There was a squeaking sound, and Harry saw the dim outline of Ron wipe at the condensation on the window. 

“There’s something moving out there,” Ron said. “I think people are coming aboard….”

The compartment door suddenly opened and someone fell painfully over Harry’s legs.

“Sorry, d’you know what’s going on? Ouch….sorry.”

“Hello, Neville,” said Harry, feeling around in the dark and pulling Neville up by his cloak. 

“Harry is that you?” he asked reaching out his hands. “No,” answered Millicent before Neville snapped his hands back by his side. 

“What’s happening?”

“No idea,” said Harry. “Here, sit down.

“I’m going to go and ask the driver what the hold up is,” said Millicent. “There are only so many Gryffindor’s I can….”

“Quiet!” said a hoarse voice suddenly. 

Professor Lupin appeared to have woken up at last. Harry could hear movements in his corner. None of them spoke. 

There was a soft crackling noise, and a shivering light filled the compartment. Professor Lupin appeared to be holding a handful of flames. They illuminated his tired, gray face, but his eyes looked alert and   
wary. 

“Stay where you are,” he said in the same hoarse voice, and he got slowly to his feet. But the door slid open before Lupin could reach it. 

Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the shivering flames in Lupin’s hand, was a cloaked figure that towered the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. Harry’s eyes darted downward, and   
what he saw made his stomach contract. There was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, grayish, shiny-looking, and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water….

And then the thing beneath the hood, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings. 

An intense cold swept over them all. Harry felt his own breath catch in his chest. The cold went deeper than his skin. It was inside his chest, it was inside his very heart….

Harry’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. He couldn’t see. He was drowning in cold. There was a rushing in his ears as though of water. He was being dragged downward. And then from far away, he heard screaming, terrible, terrible, pleading screams. He wanted to help whoever it was, he tried to move his arms, but couldn’t…. a thick white fog was swirling around him, inside him….

“Harry! Harry! Are you all right?”

Someone was slapping his face. 

“W-what?”

Harry opened his eyes to see Millicent, Ron, Neville, and Professor Lupin all staring down at him. 

Millicent and Ron helped him back onto his seat. 

“Are you okay?” Ron asked nervously. 

“Yeah,” said Harry, looking quickly toward the door, but the creature had vanished. “What happened? Where’s that….that thing? Who screamed?”

“No one screamed,” said Ron, nervously. 

“But I hea….”

A loud snap made them all jump. Professor Lupin was breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces. 

“Here,” he said to Harry, handing him a particularly large piece. “Eat it. It’ll help.”

“What was that thing?” he asked Lupin. 

“A dementor,” said Lupin, who was now giving chocolate to everyone else. “One of the dementors of Azkaban.”

“Eat,” he repeated when they all just looked at him “It’ll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me….”

He strolled past Harry and disappeared into the corridor. 

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Ron asked. 

“I don’t get it…What happened?” said Harry, wiping some sweat off his brow. 

“It looked like you were having a fit,” said Millicent. “Scared poor Weasley here to death.”

Ron nodded though he was sure Millicent had meant herself. 

“Then you went sort of rigid,” said Ron. “And then fell out of your seat and started twitching.”

“Then Professor Lupin stepped over you, walked to the door, and pulled out his wand. He said, “None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go.’ But the dementor didn’t move, so Lupin muttered   
something, and a silvery thing shot of his wand at it, and it turned around and sort of glided away….”

“It was horrible,” said Neville, in a higher voice than usual. “Did you feel how cold it got when it came in?”

“I felt weird,” said Ron, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. “Like I’d never be cheerful again.”

“But didn’t any of you fall off your seats?” said Harry awkwardly. 

They all shook their heads. 

Harry didn’t understand. He felt weak and shivery, as though he were recovering from a bad bout of the flu, but he also felt the beginnings of shame. Why had he gone to pieces like that, when no one else had?  
Professor Lupin had come back. He paused as he entered, looked around, and said, with a small smile, “I haven’t poisoned that chocolate, you know….”

Harry took a bite and to his great surprise felt warmth spread suddenly to the tops of his fingers and toes. 

“We’ll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes,” said Professor Lupin. “Are you all right, Harry?”

Harry didn’t ask how Professor Lupin knew his name. 

“Fine,” he muttered, embarrassed. 

They didn’t talk much during the remainder of the journey, but Harry did notice the lingering looks Ron and Millicent kept sending him. 

As Harry stepped down out of the carriage he saw Draco walking with Neville, but didn’t have time to think about how weird that was before Ron was herding him toward the castle with his frightened mother   
hen look. 

As the entered through the castle doors and headed toward the Great Hall, Harry heard an unmistakable voice call his name. 

It was an irate looking Marcus Flint. 

“Come on,” he said irritably. “The both of you, not you Weasley,” Marcus sneered as Harry and Millicent followed him, Harry thought to his execution.

“What part of keep yourself in peak physical condition don’t you understand, Potter? The last I checked getting body checked by a dementor wasn’t that?”

“Marcus,” said Millicent. “It wasn’t his fault.”

Flint snorted. “Of course it wasn’t, Bulstrode, nothing ever seems to be Potter’s fault.” 

“Where are we going?” Harry asked, weighing his and Millicent’s odds of being able to take Marcus on if it came to that. 

“Infirmary, Professor Lupin owled the school and said that you might need to be checked out after your little episode.”

“I’m fine,” said Harry defiantly. “I’m not that delicate.”

Both Marcus and Millicent gave him a look. 

“Well, I’m not,” Harry finished lamely. 

After surprisingly running into Hermione at the infirmary and Madam Pomfrey giving him the go ahead, Millicent and Harry walked back down to the Great Hall. Harry had to ask Hermione if she had passed out as   
well. 

They had missed the sorting, but thankfully, not the food. After another summer with the Dursleys, he would be grateful to be on whole, steady meals again. 

Millicent eyed him as he licked his lips, nearly salivating at the thought, but didn’t say anything. 

“Welcome,” said Dumbledore, the candlelight shimmering on his beard. “Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it   
out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast…”

Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, “As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business.”

He paused and Harry remembered what Mr. Weasley said about Dumbledore not being happy with the dementors guarding the school. 

“They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds,” Dumbledore continued. “and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody it to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks of disguises or even Invisibility Cloaks,” he added blandly, and Harry stared hard at the table. “It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors,” he said. 

“On a happier note,” he continued. “I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

There was some applause, but Harry clapped hard for Professor Lupin who looked particularly shabby next to all the other teachers in their best robes. 

Harry looked at Professor Snape who was staring along the staff table at Professor Lupin. His face was twisted in more than anger, in loathing. And Harry knew that expression to well, because it was often how   
Professor Snape looked at him. 

“As to our second appointment,” Dumbledore continued as the lukewarm applause for Professor Lupin died away. “Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher,   
retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties.”

Harry applauded wildly, a fair number of the other students doing the same, particularly at the Gryffindor table. Harry’s own table even had a few who seemed quite happy. 

“I should have known,” Blaise said, leaning toward Harry. “Who else would be barmy enough to have assigned us a biting book?”

Harry laughed knowing it was true and loving the proud smile on Hagrid’s face. 

After the feast, Harry found Hagrid and told him congratulations and that he was looking forward to his class before he, Millicent and Blaise walked off toward the dungeons. 

The dorms looked the same as they had for Harry’s past two years at Hogwarts though he seemed to have brand new dorm mates. Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy were almost being well, not nice, but certainly polite to him. It wasn’t enough to make him go on full alert, but it was enough to make his ears perk up. Forget Sirius Black, the real threat was a smiling Draco Malfoy. 

When it was his time to shower, Harry made sure that all his belongings were locked and warded in his trunk and that he took his wand with him. After seeing it in Riddle’s hand last year, Harry had kept it close. It was nice to be able to use magic again. A part of him couldn’t wait for classes tomorrow. Harry was slipping on his Cannon’s t-shirt Ron got him for Christmas last year when the candles flickered like they had on the train, Harry’s mind supplied. Harry finished dressing quickly, and grabbed his wand. He opened the door back to the dorm and all he saw was darkness. The only light was the light from the lake, shining through the glass in the corner. Harry’s mind raced, though rationally he knew this was probably just one of Malfoy’s pranks. He lowered his wand intent on not giving Malfoy the satisfaction. Heading to his bed he stopped when he heard Millicent’s voice. It was a quick scream, followed by “Harry!” 

Harry was out the door in a second, wand raised. He ran into the same sort of darkness that was in the room, not even the fireplace was glowing. 

“Mil?” Harry ventured, when a rush of a breeze blew past him. It felt cold like it had on the train, but Dumbledore sai… A black mass moved in the corner at the same time another bumped into him, and he fell to the floor, his wand falling out of his sight and clanging away out of reach. He could hear Millicent struggling in earnest now as a hooded figure loomed over him. He screamed, flailing his arms upward, hitting something solid. 

“Oi, Potter!” a voice said and the lights flicked back on. Goyle through back his hood, holding onto his eye. Pansy Parkinson was laughing hysterically in the corner and Millicent was finally able to pull herself out of Crabbe’s hold on her. 

“Scared, Potter?” Draco Malfoy drawled as he removed his own hood. Harry wanted to eviscerate that smug smile on his face. 

“You wish,” Harry muttered as Millicent elbowed Crabbe in the chest. 

“Ouch, Mil,”

“You deserved it, you low life flobberworm.”

“Longbottom said you passed out, Potter, is that true?” Draco mocked Harry. Harry pushed himself off the floor. 

“What’s your problem Malfoy?” 

“Nothing, Potter, just testing a theory. See, I wanted to know if your natural reaction to fear was to kiss the floor or if you were also keen on wetting yourself?”

“Ha, Ha,” said Harry. “You’re a real git, Malfoy. Are you alright?” Harry asked Millicent. 

“Fine,” she said shortly, though her cheeks were tinted red. Her eyes, however, looked furious. 

Harry’s heart still pounding he shrugged off Malfoy’s laughter. 

“Oh, come on, Potter,” Malfoy’s voice followed after him. “Wait and I’ll read you a bedtime story.” 

Harry slammed the door to their room shut and went to bed, willing his heart to stop racing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for a Boggart lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I do not own Harry James, though I would like to be his friend. I hope you comment, I'd love to hear what you think. If you have questions you can message me here, leave a comment, or send me an ask on Tumblr at thinkmyhappythoughts.tumblr, you could also tweet me, and I mean you Jo Rowling, at Mitchel_chelsea. Thanks, and much love.

When Harry entered the Great Hall the next morning, he was greeted by Draco Malfoy entertaining the rest of the table about the previous night. As he passed by them, Malfoy did a ridiculous impression of a swooning fit and there was a roar of laughter. 

“Potter! The dementors are coming, Potter! Woooooooo!” Pansy shrieked. 

“Don’t worry about Pansy, she’s just trying to get Draco’s attention,” said Millicent. 

“Trying to get your man, Bulstrode?” asked Blaise, who seemed to get handsomer and handsomer every year. 

“She can have him,” Millicent said unperturbed, flipping her hair over to where the shaved side was showing for everyone to see. 

The three left the Great Hall, running into an arguing Fred and George. Malfoy walked by and did another impersonation of Harry fainting, his performance followed by a roar of laughter. 

“Don’t worry,” said George. “That little git wasn’t so cocky last night when the dementors were down at our end of the train. Came running into our compartment, didn’t he, Fred?” 

“Nearly wet himself,” said Fred, with a contemptuous glance at Malfoy. 

“I wasn’t so happy myself,” said George. “They’re horrible things, those dementors….”

“You didn’t pass out though, did you?” said Harry in a low voice. 

“Forget it, Harry,” said George bracingly. “Dad had to go out to Azkaban one time, remember, Fred? And he said it was the worst place he’d ever been, he came back all weak and shaking…They suck the happiness   
out of a place, dementors. Most of the prisoners go mad in there.” 

“Hey, Harry,” Hermione said walking over to the group, anything to get out of talking to Ron it seemed. 

“Where are you guys headed first?”

“Divination, Granger, you?” said Millicent. 

“Same,”

The group said goodbye to Fred and George, and started walking toward the North Tower. “Let’s go this way,” Millicent said. 

“What?” asked Hermione. “But everyone else is going that way.”

“No,” said Millicent. “All the Gryffindors are going that way, but if we go this way we can get there faster.”

Hermione looked confused, but followed after Millicent though she looked like she wanted to go with everyone else. 

“How do you know we’re going the right way?” asked Harry. 

Millicent looked over at Harry and answered, “Magic.” 

Harry laughed. 

“No, my sister told me. In return for my being on my best behavior at her wedding this summer and waiting to do this to my hair she agreed to tell me some of the secrets she knew about the school from her time   
here.”

Blaise nodded, eyeing Millicent’s hair.

“I’m surprised you didn’t charge her more,” 

“Oh,” said Millicent. “I’m sure what she told me will come in handy eventually.

Divination was the oddest looking classroom that Harry had ever been in and Professor Trewlaney was the oddest professor he had ever had. Harry had spent the majority of the hour laughing into his arm as   
Professor Trewlaney and Hermione seemed to go back and forth. Professor Trewlaney thought that she saw bad fortune and a horrible future in Harry’s cup and Hermione saw the remnants of tea leaves. 

“You’ll forgive me for saying so, my dear, but I perceive very little aura around you. Very little receptivity to the resonances of the future.”

Hermione looked aghast, Professor Trewlaney looked vacant. Seamus Finnigan then got his hands on Harry’s cup, and decided that it looked part Grim and part donkey. Harry, tired of hearing everyone talk   
about him dying, when for the past two years that had been a very good possibility was in a sour mood when they got to their first Transfiguration class later that day. 

“Is it you then, Potter?” Professor McGonagall asked Harry. 

Harry looked up at her, wide eyed. 

“Class, Professor Trewlaney predicts a student’s death every year, and it hasn’t happened once. Divination is an imprecise branch of magic and True Seers are very rare, and while I don’t speak poorly of my   
colleagues….You look in excellent health to me, Potter, so you will excuse me if I don’t let you off homework toady. I assure you that if you die, you need not hand it in.”

Harry smiled and felt like a weight had been lifted as he watched Professor McGonagall turn into her familiar looking tabby cat and she started telling them about Animagi. 

After lunch, they headed to their first Care of Magical Creatures class. Ron and Hermione still fighting over their animals were not speaking as they took up opposite sides of their little group. Malfoy stood   
nearby, shooting Harry an evil look before turning back to a chortling Crabbe and Goyle. 

Hagrid was waiting impatiently for his class, Fang by his side and a big smile on his face. 

“Right! Follow me! Great lesson comin’ up,” Harry admired his friend’s optimism. Hagrid led them to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. 

“Not again,” Millicent whispered and Harry laughed. 

“No promises,” he replied. But, instead of leading them into the forest, Hagrid led them to a large, though empty paddock. 

“That’s it,” called Hagrid. “Make sure yeh can see. Now, firs’ thing yeh’ll want ter do is open yer books….I”

“How?” said the annoying voice of Draco Malfoy. 

“Eh?” said Hagrid. “How do we open our books?” Malfoy repeated. 

He pulled out his rope bound book prompting others to do the same. “Hasn’ anyone bin able ter open their books?” said Hagrid, looking crestfallen. The class all shook their heads. 

“Yeh’ve got ter strokes ‘em,” said Hagrid like it was the most obvious thing in the world. As Hagrid left them to get the creature, whatever it was, Malfoy started up again. 

“Salazar, this place is going to the dogs, that oaf teaching classes. My father’ll have a fit when I tell him.”

“Shut it, Malfoy. No one wants to hear your drivel,” said Harry. 

“What’s wrong Potter? Not getting enough sleep? You’re acting a bit….” 

“Oooooh!” squealed Lavender Brown pointing toward the opposite side of the paddock. 

“Hippogriffs!” Hagrid roared, happily, waving a hand at them. “Beautiful aren’t they?” 

Hagrid was right, they were. 

“So,” said Hagrid. “if you wan’ ter come a bit nearer.” A few people cautiously approached the fence, Blaise among them.

“I’ve always wanted to see a hippogriff,” he whispered conspiratorially to Harry, like he was spreading a salacious secret about Dumbledore, or worse, Snape. 

“Now, first thing yeh gotta know abou’ hippogriffs is, they’re proud, very easily offended. Don’t never insult one, ‘cause it might be the last thing yeh do,” Harry spotted, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle all huddled   
and hoped they weren’t planning on messing up Hagrid’s first lesson. 

Then Hagrid asked for volunteers. 

Harry looked to Blaise, but seeing his hesitancy and Hagrid’s pleading look, Harry stepped forward. “I’ll do it,” said Harry. 

Harry heard the whispered warnings from two of Trewlaney’s new believers, but ignored them as he climbed over the fence. Harry bowed to the hippogriff at the right time, nervous at having to show his neck   
to the creature, but when the creature bowed back, Harry was elated. Harry looked to Blaise as if to say, “You’re next,” as he pet the creature’s back. 

Blaise smirked, but Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle didn’t look as amused. 

Then, in a matter of moments, he was on the hippogriff’s back and they were soaring. They landed with a thud, and the rest of the students approached them. 

Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle taking over Buckbeak, after Harry climbed off of him. Malfoy bowed then pet his beak as Harry had done. 

“This is easy,” Malfoy drawled, loud enough for Harry to hear. “I knew it must have been, if Potter could do it… I bet you’re not dangerous at all, are you?” he said to the hippogriff. “Are you, you great ugly   
brute?” And while Harry heard that for the odd sort of Slytherin affection that it was, he knew it had no place here. 

It happened in a flash of steely talons; Malfoy let out a high pitched scream and then Hagrid wrestled Buckbeak back into his collar as the hippogriff still strained to get at Malfoy, who lay in the grass, blood   
blossoming over his robes. 

“I’m dying!” Malfoy yelled as the class panicked. “I’m dying, look at me! It’s killed me!” Hagrid lifted Malfoy and carried him up the slope toward the castle. 

Shaken, the class followed. “They should fire him straight away!” said Pansy Parkinson, her face streaked with tears. 

“It was Malfoy’s fault!” snapped Dean Thomas. Crabbe and Goyle flexed their muscles threateningly. Pansy dashed off to find Malfoy in the infirmary as soon as they got to the castle. 

“Do you think he’ll be alright?” asked Hermione nervously. 

“Course he will. Madam Pomfrey can mend cuts in about a second,” said Harry, who had had far worse injuries mended magically by the extraordinary nurse. 

“That was a really bad thing to happen in Hagrid’s first class, though, wasn’t it?” said Ron, looking worried. “Trust Malfoy to mess things up for him….”

“It was hardly Malfoy’s fault,” said Millicent. “It seemed as if Hagrid was just too quick to jump into the deep end.” 

“Sticking up for your fiancé, Bulstrode?” asked Ron angrily. 

“She’s just stating a fact, Weasley,” said Blaise in the same tone. “Relax,” Blaise continued. “It’s not like they are going to fire your precious Giant.” Ron rolled his eyes. 

“They wouldn’t fire him, would they?” said Hermione anxiously. 

“They’d better not,” said Ron. 

 

Malfoy didn’t reappear in classes until late on Thursday morning, when they had Double potions with the Gryffindors. He swaggered into the dungeon, his right arm covered in bandages and bound up in a   
sling. 

“How is it, Draco?” simpered Pansy. “Does it hurt much?”

“Yeah,” said Malfoy, putting on a brave sort of grimace. But Harry saw him wink at Crabbe and Goyle when Pansy looked away. They hadn’t fired Hagrid, but Harry had went to see him nonetheless. He knew that   
Malfoy was faking it and he tried to assure Hagrid of the same thing, but Harry knew that the event had shaken Hagrid’s confidence. 

“Settle down, settle down,” said Professor Snape idly.

Harry and Ron scowled at each other; Snape wouldn’t have said “settle down”, if either of them had walked in late, he’d have given them detention. But Malfoy had always been able to get away with anything in Snape’s classes. 

“Sir,” Malfoy called. “Sir, I’ll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm…”

“Weasley, cut up Malfoy’s roots for him,” said Snape without looking up. 

Ron went brick red. 

“There’s nothing wrong with your arm,” he hissed at Malfoy. 

Malfoy smirked across the table. 

“Weasley, you heard Professor Snape, cut up these roots.”

Ron seized his knife, pulled Malfoy’s roots toward him, and began to chop them roughly, so that they were all different sizes.

“Professor,” drawled Malfoy. “Weasley’s mutilating my roots, sir.”

Snape approached their table, stared down his hooked nose at the roots, then gave Ron an unpleasant smile from beneath his long, greasy-black hair. 

“Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley,”

“But sir!”

Ron had spent the last quarter of an hour carefully shredding his own roots into exactly equal pieces, but Snape was insistent. Next, Harry got the privilege of skinning Malfoys shrivelfig, Snape giving Harry the look   
of loathing he always reserved just for him. 

“Seen your pal Hagrid lately?” Malfoy asked, even as Ron and Harry both tried their best to ignore him. 

“None of your business,” said Ron jerkily, not looking up. 

“I’m afraid he won’t be a teacher here much longer,” said Malfoy in a tone of mock sorrow. “Father’s not very happy about my injury…”

“Keep talking, Malfoy, and I’ll give you a real injury,” snarled Ron. 

“…he’s complained to the school governors. And to the Ministry of Magic. Father’s got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like this...” he gave a huge, fake sigh…” who knows if my arm’ll ever be the   
same again?”

Harry knew that was what Malfoy was egging for, to get Hagrid fired, he just didn’t know why. He wondered really if Malfoy even really knew why. 

A few cauldrons away, Neville was in trouble. Neville regularly went to pieces in Potions lessons, his fear of Snape only increasing his difficulties. His potion was now a bright orange color and as Hermione   
tried her best to help him. 

“I don’t remember asking you to show off Ms. Granger,” said Snape coldly. “Longbottom, at the end of the lesson we will feed a few drops of this potion to your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will   
encourage you to do it properly.” 

Seamus Finnigan leaned over to borrow some scales. “Have you heard? Daily Prophet prints that someone has spotted Sirius Black.”

“Where?” said Harry and Ron quickly. On the other side of the table, Malfoy looked up, listening closely.

“Not too far from here,” said Seamus, who looked excited at the news of a mass murderer being within yelling distance. “It was a Muggle who saw him. Course, she didn’t really understand. The Muggles think   
he’s just an ordinary criminal, don’t they? So, she phoned the telephone hot line, but by the time the Ministry showed up he was gone.”

“Need something else skinned, Draco?” Harry asked, not looking up. Malfoy laughed, getting Harry’s attention, his eyes were shining malevolently, and they were fixed on Harry. He leaned across the table. 

“Thinking of trying to catch Black single-handed, Potter?” 

“Yeah, that’s right,” said Harry, offhandedly.

Malfoy’s thin mouth was curving in a mean smile. 

“Of course, if it was me,” he said quietly. “I’d have done something before now. I wouldn’t be staying in school like a good boy, I’d be out there looking for him.”

“What are you talking about, Malfoy?” said Ron roughly. 

“Don’t you know, Potter?” breathed Malfoy, his pale eyes narrowed. 

“Know what?”

Malfoy let out a low, sneering laugh. 

“Maybe you’d rather not risk your neck,” he said. “Want to leave it to the dementors, do you? But if it was me, I’d want revenge. I’d hunt him down myself?” Snape walked by then, making sure that Harry and   
Ron had sufficiently helped Malfoy, thus shutting Malfoy’s mouth. 

Harry left the Potions classroom with a lot of questions, a smug dorm mate, a relieved Neville, and an annoyed Hermione Granger. 

Professor Lupin wasn’t there when they arrived at their first Defense Against the Darks Arts lesson. They all sat down, took out their materials and were chatting when he entered. 

Lupin smiled vaguely and placed his tatty old briefcase on the teacher’s desk. He was as shabby as ever, but looked healthier than he had on the train, as though he had had a few square meals. 

“Good afternoon, would you please put all your books in your bags. Today will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands.”

“Right then,” he said after everyone had done so. “If you’d follow me.”

Puzzled but interested, the class got to its feet and followed Professor Lupin out of the classroom. He led them along the corridor and around a corner where the first thing they saw was Peeves the Poltergeist, who   
was floating upside down in midair and stuffing the nearest keyhole with gum. 

Peeves didn’t look up until Professor Lupin was two feet away; then he wiggled his curly toed feet and broke into song. “Loony, Loopy, Lupin,” Peeves sang. “Loony, Loopy, Lupin.” And unmanageable as he almost always way Peeves usually showed some respect toward the teachers. Everyone looked quickly at Professor Lupin to see how he would take this, to their surprise, he was still smiling. 

After some back and forth, Professor Lupin sighed and took out his wand. “This is a useful little spell,” he told the class over his shoulder. “Please watch closely.” 

He raised the wan, shoulder high, said, “Waddiwasi!” and pointed it at Peeves.   
With the force of a bullet, the wad of chewing gum shot out of the keyhole and straight down Peeve’s left nostril; he whirled upright and zoomed away, cursing. 

“Wow,” Harry heard someone whisper. And while Professor Lupin didn’t acknowledge it, Harry saw him smirk at the impressed looks on a few of the students faces. 

“Shall we proceed?” 

They set off again. He led them down a second corridor and stopped right outside the staffroom door. 

“Inside, please.” 

The staffroom, a long, paneled room of old, mismatched chairs, was empty. The classes’ attention was quickly shifted onto a large wardrobe at the end of the room. It shook slightly as if something were waiting   
inside to get out. 

“Nothing to worry about,” said Professor Lupin calmly because a few people had jumped backwards in alarm. “There’s a boggart in there.”

Most people seemed to feel that this was something to worry about, Harry one of them. 

“Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces,” said Professor Lupin. “Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks…I once met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. This one moved in yesterday   
afternoon, and I asked the headmistress if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice.”

“So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a boggart?”

Draco lifted his good arm.

“It’s a shape shifter,” he answered in a superior tone. “It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most.” 

“The boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a boggart will look like when he   
is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears.”

“This means,” said Professor Lupin. “that we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?” 

“Um, there’s a lot of us, it won’t know what shape it should be?”

“Precisely,” said Professor Lupin. “It’s always best to have company when dealing with a boggart. He becomes confused, do I become a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug.” Tracey Davis let out a shrill sound of   
alarm. 

Professor Lupin then taught the class the charm to repel the boggart, and they all lined up. 

“Greg,” said Professor Lupin. “How about you go first.” Goyle looked tentatively at the wardrobe like there was no way he was going to approach it willing. 

“Please,” said a smiling Professor Lupin. Grudingly, Goyle proceeded to the front of the room. 

“Now, Greg, are you ready? Remember, Riddikulus!” Goyle nodded. His wand shaking slightly with nerves. 

“You’ve got this,” Professor Lupin encouraged. Professor Lupin moved to the wardrobe and opened the door. For a moment, nothing happened then a giant, meaty hand gripped the other door and out walked   
a giant troll. 

“Ri…ri,” Goyle stuttered. “Riddikulus,” Lupin repeated. 

“Riddikulus!” Goyle shouted and in an instant the troll who was once wearing a blood stained sort of toga, was now in a very prim set of plum robes. 

And then Goyle started to laugh, a full belly laugh that even made Malfoy chuckle. Malfoy stepped to the forefront then, and the troll turned into a giant snake that swayed and hissed violently at the class.   
After more hesitation than Harry has ever seen in the other boy, Draco lifted his wand and cast the charm turning the Snake into a small flobberworm. Tracey Davis was next in line, the small flobberworm then   
multiplying into a horde of centipedes who threatened to overtake her feet. Tracey seemed to steal herself, then shouted, “Riddikulus!” She recited the spell in a flurry and turned them into little cute furry things   
Harry couldn’t identify. 

It seemed the only thing more effective on a boggart than laughter was cooing because the boggart quickly vanished back into the cabinet. 

Millicent stepped forward then, and quickly vanquished the somewhat familiar looking hand that threatened to come out of the wardrobe. She deftly took her place back in line, but Harry noticed the way that her breath had caught in her throat. 

Blaise stepped up, his cavalier attitude showing only a moment of fear before he too vanished a snake. After Blaise then Crabbe managed to take care of the Boggart, Nott stepped forward. The form puffed into black smoke then in it’s place stood a werewolf. Nott shuddered, his face contorted in obvious fear. The monster was ugly and snarling, it’s back crooked and every visible part of it was covered in blood soaked fur. It was one of the most hideous things that Harry has ever seen, and he once had the displeasure of seeing Goyle’s naked body. The beast approached a white face Nott and the group took a collective step back with him. Harry looked to Professor Lupin for his usual encouragement, only catching a glimpse of the man as Nott finally shouted the spell, dispelling the boggart.   
“Ha!” Nott cheered, and Harry noticed that Professor Lupin also forgot his “Well done,” as Harry stepped up. There was silence as the boggart tried a few different shapes, not seeming to know what would frighten him the most. Harry noticed Professor Lupin eyeing him wearily before the boggart finally seemed to “decide” and turned into Harry’s most recent nightmare. A dementor.

“Here!” shouted Professor Lupin suddenly hurrying forward. 

Then the dementor dissolved into a white orb, which Professor Lupin quickly cast away as he called for Pansy. 

“Now, Mrs. Parkinson.”

Pansy stepped forward hesitantly, but the boggart knew immediately what it wished to become for her. 

One second it was an indecisive whirl then it was…a house elf? 

It almost looked like Dobby, large ears and eyes, but this was distinctly female and older than Harry had ever seen Dobby. 

Pansy’s hand flew to her mouth, her wand hand shaking by her side. 

“Ms. Tizzy?” 

The old elf looked as distraught as Pansy. The elf was wearing a clean sheet, like something Harry had seen Dobby in, but her age was etched all over her sad face. “Ms. Tizzy, I didn’t….” Pansy tried to say, but   
her words were cut off by her choked sobs. 

The old elf looked at Pansy accusingly, her old frail hand rising to point at Pansy.

“I’m sorry,” Pansy cried. “I’m sorry.” She was crying in earnest then, backing away from the house elf. Crabbe stepped up then, shouting, “Over here.”

The boggart turned back into Hagrid’s snapping book as Tracey Davis pulled a now completely lost Pansy toward the back of the room. 

And with a sounding, “Riddikulus!” Professor Lupin put the boggart back into the wardrobe. 

Harry stood there, speechless. 

Wondering what in the world he had just witnessed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An extra lesson with the honorable Professor Lupin, and some Marcus Flint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I do not own Harry Potter, I just like to play in Jo's world. Follow me on Twitter at Mitchel_chelsea, or on Tumblr at thinkmyhappythoughts.tumblr. I love hearing from you so please leave a comment, and thanks for any and all kudos. You guys are brilliant.   
> And Jo Rowling, call me please, I have an idea.

In no time at all, Defense Against the Dark Arts had become most people’s favorite class. “Did you see how I took on that werewolf?” Nott smiled. “One spell and he was my aunt Muffy’s poodle.” Only Draco and a few others seemed sour about Professor Lupin. 

“Look at the state of his robes. He dresses like our old house elf.”

But no one else cared that Professor Lupin’s robes were patched and frayed. His next few lessons were just as interesting as the first. 

It had been raining for days, not unusual for Scotland, but still depressing. Harry was itching to get back into the sky without the added presence of Flint and Malfoy. Maybe he could talk Ron into a fly around.   
Harry walked into the Great Hall and immediately spotted Malfoy drinking his poncey tea and refusing Goyle so much as a sip. 

The boy had been drinking it all year so far, the smell of the tea was verging no foul, but he had heard Malfoy boast more than once about its magical properties and outrageous cost. 

“Don’t worry, Greg,” said Millicent. “I’ll get you some for Christmas.” 

Greg gave her a small smile. “And Cook’s fudge?” Millicent nodded as an uncharacteristically happy Nott came bounding up to the table. 

“What is it?” Malfoy asked, haughtily. 

“Defense is going to be outside today.”

“Uck!” Tracey Davis cowed, stroking her long slick hair in worry. “Not even my no-frizz charms are strong enough to stand up against that.”

“Don’t worry, I doubt very much that you’ll look that different than normal,” said Pansy, no fear on her face. “At least you’ll make Lupin look better in comparison.”

“You’ll take all you can get, eh Parkinson?” said Millicent, thus shutting up Pansy, but Malfoy, too, didn’t look like he liked the idea of going out in what looked like a monsoon. 

Turns out by the time Defense came around the rain had dulled to a steady drizzle. Tracey Davis had her hood pulled up over her hair and bunched together toward her miserable looking face. 

“All right, class,” said Professor Lupin. “Do you all remember our discussion about Kappas last week?”

They all nodded, though Harry heard Draco mutter “who cares” before Nott elbowed him in the side. 

Malfoy glared, but didn’t say anything else. 

“Mr. Zabini,” Professor Lupin called. 

“Kappas are water dwelling demons originally from Japan,” Blaise answered smoothly. 

“Excellent,” said Professor Lupin. “Five points to Slytherin.” 

“And how do you defeat a Kappa? Ms. Davis?” he asked Tracey, but seeing as how Tracey had been charming her nails different colors all last class instead of listening, she merely shook her head. 

“Ms. Parkinson?” 

Pansy on the other hand could scheme and primp with the best of them. 

“Make them bow to you and cucumbers for those ghastly bags under their eyes.”

“Indeed,” Professor Lupin said, though she might have glossed over a piece or two of information. 

“Five points to Slytherin.”

Pansy smiled like she had just give Professor Lupin five points then turned her attention to Goyle. 

“Are we going in there, Sir?” 

There, used to be a large dip in the grass where people hung out near the lake during the warmer months, but now it was filled with rain. The twelve by six area was about knee deep with muddy rain water, fallen   
leaves, and a greenish layer Harry couldn’t quickly identify. 

“Are we meant to go in that?” asked Malfoy, sounding about as frayed as Tracey Davis looked. 

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy,” said Professor Lupin was too cheerfully for this crowd or this weather. “I thought it was time for another practical lesson, but fear not, not all of you will be forced to wade through unknown depths, only those who are craving some extra points. And just like that Professor Lupin’s chances of getting someone to volunteer improved dramatically. Harry didn’t know if Lucius Malfoy was still on Draco about Hermione out scoring him, but Draco’s ears did perk up at the words “extra credit”. Blaise, too, was gazing at the pop up pond interestingly. Harry didn’t really need the extra points in Defense, but he did like Professor Lupin and knew that if he volunteered that some of the others might do so too out of pure spite. 

“I’ll have a go,” said none other than Vincent Crabbe. 

Several heads turned in his direction, but the burly looking boy was already getting into the pond. Professor Lupin tossed a bag of something to Blaise, and Blaise offered it to Crabbe. 

“Cucumber, Vincent?” and Harry had no idea how Blaise could make that sound dirty, but he managed it. Crabbe took the offered cucumber and waded into the pond. He smiled brightly at a still annoyed   
Tracey Davis. The girl missed his wink, but saw as Crabbe was violently pulled under the water. Harry and the others rushed toward the pond, but Crabbe popped up a moment later, the beast a few feet ahead of   
him. 

“Throw the cucumber, you fool!” shouted Malfoy, sounding hysterical. 

Harry never knew Malfoy cared for Crabbe that much. The shocked look on Crabbe’s face said he didn’t either. Draco slammed his hand over his mouth like he couldn’t believe he had just said that, but then Crabbe threw the cucumber at the water demon’s head, and while it was distracted, managed to make it to the other side of the pond and out of the water. 

“Cast a warming charm for me, eh Pans?” said Crabbe, but even as Pansy was shaking her head, no, Crabbe grabbed her hand and pulled her into the water. 

With surprising grace, Pansy landed without making a big splash. Oh, she shot a smarting stinging hex at a laughing Crabbe, but other than that, she looked rather regal in the muddy water. Blaise, wasting no time, leaned over and opened the bag as the monkey like demon once again rose above the surface of the water. 

“Cucumber, Ms. Parkinson?” Blaise smirked. 

“Please,” said Pansy loftily. “When have I ever failed in getting you lesser beasts to bow to me?”

Harry could actually hear Millicent roll her eyes, but with some careful spell work the demon dipped its head, allowing some of the water to leak out, giving Pansy the opportunity to strut past it and out of the   
pool. 

“And that’s how you do that, amateurs.” 

Harry went then, if just for the experience, using a combo of the two approaches to make it past the water dweller. 

“Well done, Harry!” cheered Professor Lupin. “Well done all of you, five points each to Slytherin, plus your extra credit.” 

“Watch out!” shouted Draco Malfoy as Nott moved closer to watch Professor Lupin get the Kappa out of the water. He had stepped closer, slightly knocking Draco closer to the water and Draco looked as if he   
were about to have a panic attack. 

“Watch what you’re doing, Nott!” Malfoy shrieked, his words losing some of there command in his shrill. Then remembering himself, he backed away then voice lowered finished, “You overzealous, child.”

Harry exchanged a wide eyed look with Millicent, but the girl simply looked amused as if she had understood a joke no one else caught. 

Harry only wished all of his other classes were as interesting. Worst of all was Potions. Snape was in a particularly vindictive mood these days and no one was in any doubts as to why. By then, everyone had heard   
about the Gryffindor’s Boggart lesson with Professor Lupin. Snape and Neville’s grandmother’s clothes equaled a very unamused Snape. His eyes flashed menacingly at the very mention of Professor Lupin’s name,   
and Harry heard he was bullying Neville Longbottom worse than ever. 

Professor Trewlaney had not stopped proclaiming his death every other class and after their first Care of Magical Creatures class, and Malfoy’s continued whining, Hagrid seemed to have lost his confidence. 

Their current lesson centered around flobberworms. 

At the start of October, however, Harry had something else to occupy his thoughts. The Quiddditch season was approaching and Marcus Flint was in full Captain mode. He scheduled practice after practice and they   
were now headed to the Quidditch pitch for another one. 

Flint halted the team as he spotted the Gryffindor’s all in a huddle. Oliver Wood standing in the middle of a rapt group featuring Fred and George, and none other than Seamus Finnigan. 

“This is our last chance….my last chance….to win the Quidditch Cup,” he told them, striding up and down in front of them. “I’ll be leaving at the end of the year. I’ll never get another shot at it….”

“Gryffindor hasn’t won for seven years now, Okay, so we’ve had the worst luck in the world….injuries, tournaments being called off, but we also know we’ve got the Best. Ruddy. Team. In. The. School,” he said,   
punching a fist into his other hand, the same manic glint in his eyes that Harry often saw in Flint’s. Malfoy and a few of the others started laughing, but Flint silenced them with a lifted hand, his eyes never leaving   
Oliver Wood. 

“We’ve got three superb Chasers.” 

Wood pointed to Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, and Katie Bell. 

“We’ve got two unbeatable Beaters.” 

Flint smiled a little. 

Then Fred and George said, “Stop it, Oliver, you’re making us blush.” And his smile faded. 

“And we’ve got a Seeker who is young and sprite and hungry for victory!” 

Seamus hooted loudly. 

“And me, of course,” Wood said as a sort of an afterthought. 

“We think your very good too, Oliver,” said George. 

“Spanking good Keeper,” said Fred. 

“The point is,” Wood went on, resuming his pacing, “the Quidditch Cup should have had our name on it these last few years. But we haven’t got it, and this year’s the last chance we’ll get to finally see our name on   
the thing…..”

Wood spoke so dejectedly that even Fred and George looked sympathetic. 

“Oliver, this year’s our year,” said Fred. 

“We’ll do it, Oliver,” said Angelina. 

“Definitely, Captain,” said Flint loudly, deciding that he’d seen enough and moved to announce their presence to the other team. 

“Isn’t practice over now, Wood, or did you think you were going to infringe upon our practice time, again?”

“Shut it, Flint, we were just leaving,” said Wood. 

“Really? Because it seemed like you were just gearing up for another boring and might I mention useless motivational speech.” 

Wood glared at Flint, but Flint seemed unmoved by the burly seventh years expression. When Flint was done playing with poor Wood, he directed the team to the side of the pitch. 

“Take a knee,” Flint directed. The team sat in a semi-circle around their Captain. 

“This year is very important, like you heard Wood saying, but its not important because of the Cup, though, we’ll win that, too, of course.” 

Harry wanted to ask then what is important, but knew that as much as Flint mocked Wood for his dramatics that Marcus Flint enjoyed plenty of his own. 

“It’s about getting Quidditch scouts here to watch me.”

“What?” said Adrian Pucey. “Marcus,” he said exasperatedly, but Flint ignored him. “Several scouts have been in touch with Madam Hooch and will be in the stands throughout the season, that means that we’ll have   
to practice harder than ever before.”

Harry rightfully understood that as, “You will be run into the ground.”

“Does Wood know about the scouts?” another person asked. 

“Seeing as how they’re coming to see the both of us, yes. But Wood isn’t willing to sacrifice his team for a shot at the big leagues, but I…” Flint said with a flourish. “will do anything to make sure that I make a   
team.”

Harry shuddered at the manic glee in Flint’s voice then started when Flint clapped his hands together and told them to get on their brooms. 

Harry returned to the common room one evening after training, cold and stiff, but pleased with the way practice had gone. 

“First Hogsmeade weekend, Potter,” said Blaise as soon as he saw him. “Halloween,” he said and Harry smiled, though he didn’t feel it. He hadn’t yet told Blaise that he didn’t get his slip signed, but he knew he   
would have to soon. 

On Halloween morning, Harry awoke with the rest and went down to breakfast, feeling thoroughly depressed, though doing his best to act normally. 

“We’ll bring you lots of sweets back from Honeydukes,” said Hermione, looking desperately sorry for him. 

“Yeah, loads,” said Ron. He and Hermione had finally forgotten their squabble about Crookshanks in the face of Harry’s disappointment. He told them not to worry. Malfoy stopped to taunt him, but Millicent   
sent a jelly-legs jinx at him, causing him to fall face first into a puddle of water. Professor McGonagall dried him with an annoyed flick of her wand, but it was still great to watch. 

Harry thought for a moment of trying to see if Professor McGonagall would sigh his slip, but thought better of it. 

“You could always ask Snape?” Ron mentioned.

“Please do,” begged Millicent standing beside him with Fred and George. 

“Yes!” said Fred excitedly, “please ask Snape if he will sign your form. You know, George, I think we can skip Hogsmeade today just to watch that encounter.”

“Ha, Ha,” laughed Harry before exacting even more promises of sweets and Zonko’s products from the lot of them. 

Harry wandered about the castle that night, in no hurry to get back to the dorm. He was walking down a corridor when a voice from inside one of the rooms said, “Harry?” 

Harry doubled back to see who had spoken and met Professor Lupin, looking around his office door. 

“What are you doing?” said Lupin. “Where’s Ms. Bulstrode?

“Hogsmeade with Ron, Hermione, Blaise….” 

“Ah,” said Lupin. He considered Harry for a moment. “Why don’t you come in? I’ve just taken delivery of a grindylow for our next lesson.” 

“A what?” said Harry. He followed Lupin into his office. In the corner stood a very large tank of water. A sickly green creature with sharp little horns had its face pressed against the glass, pulling faces and   
flicking water with its long fingers. 

“Water demon,” said Lupin. “He shouldn’t be too hard to handle after the Kappas. The trick it to break his grip. You notice the abnormally long fingers? Strong, but very brittle.” 

“Cup of tea?” Lupin said, looking around for his kettle. “I was just thinking of making one.”

“All right?” said Harry. 

“Sit down,” said Lupin. “I’ve only got tea bags, I’m afraid, but I dare say you’ve had enough of tea leaves?”

Harry looked at him. Lupin’s eyes were twinkling. “How did you know about that?” Harry asked. “Professor McGonagall told me,” said Lupin. “She’s…uh…not to pleased with….well, you’re not worried, are you?”

“No,” said Harry. 

“Is anything worrying you, Harry?”

Harry thought. Yes, something was bothering him. 

“Why didn’t you let me fight the boggart?” 

Lupin raised his eyebrows. “You thought it was going to turn into….”

“Yes,” said Lupin. “I thought it would take the shape of Lord Voldemort. I was worried about it for a few people, but yes….”

Harry stared. 

Lupin had said Voldemort’s name. He was the only person Harry had ever heard say the name aloud (apart from himself) was Professor Dumbledore. 

“Clearly I was wrong,” said Lupin, still frowning at Harry. “But I didn’t think it was a good idea for Lord Voldemort to materialize in the staffroom. I imagined that people would panic.”

“I did think of Voldemort at first, but then I remembered the dementors.”

“I see,” said Lupin thoughtfully. “Well, well….I’m impressed.” He smiled slightly at the look of surprise on Harry’s face. “That suggests that what you fear the most of all is…fear. Very wise, Harry. Perhaps you have a   
bit of Ravenclaw in you.”

Harry laughed. 

“All Slytherin I’m afraid.” 

Lupin smiled warmly. “So you’ve been thinking that I didn’t believe you capable of fighting the boggart?” said Lupin shrewdly. 

“Well, yeah,” Harry admitted. “Professor Lupin, why do the dementors….”

He was interrupted by a knock on the door. 

“Come in,” called Lupin. 

The door opened, and in came Snape. He was carrying a goblet, which was smoking faintly, and stopped at the sight of Harry, his black eyes narrowing. 

“Ah, Severus,” said Lupin, smiling. “Thanks very much. Could you leave it here on the desk for me?”

Snape set down the smoking goblet, his eyes wandering between Harry and Lupin. 

“I was just showing Harry the grindylow,” said Lupin pleasantly. 

“Fascinating,” said Snape, without looking at it. “You should drink that directly, Lupin.”

“Yes, yes, I will,” said Lupin. 

“I made an entire cauldronful,” Snape continued. “If you need more.”

“I should probably take some more again tomorrow. Thanks very much, Severus.”

“Not at all,” said Snape, but there was a look in his eye that Harry didn’t like. He backed out of the room, unsmiling and watchful. 

Harry looked curiously at the goblet. Lupin smiled. 

“Professor Snape has very kindly concocted a potion for me,” he said. “I have never been much of a potion-brewer and his one is particularly complex.” He picked up the goblet and sniffed it. “Pity sugar makes it   
useless,” he added, taking a sip and shuddering. 

“Why….?” Harry began. Lupin looked at him and answered the unfinished question. 

“I’ve been feeling a bit off-color,” he said. “This potion is the only thing that helps. I am very lucky to be working alongside Professor Snape there aren’t many wizards who are up to making it.” 

Professor Lupin took another sip and Harry had a crazy urge to knock the goblet out of his hands. 

“Professor Snape’s seems to be very interested in the Dark Arts. Have you ever seen his office?” Harry asked, but as Professor Lupin kept sipping his drink, he assumed that it was probably too late for the man   
anyway. 

Harry made his way back to the common room, and was greeted by Blaise and Millicent. “The tooth rotting fluff on your bed is from Ronald and Blaise, the trouble makers left you something as well, but seeing   
as how you can’t go a lesson without running out of ink, I got you enough so that you should stop having to borrow mine,” said Millicent with a wry smile. 

Harry thanked them both then turned to head to bed determined to do some research about what was in that cup Snape gave Lupin. He was barely out of the shower when Flint burst into the room and ordered everyone to get their stuff, they were going to the Great Hall. Sirius Black was in the castle and had just attacked Gryffindor tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Throw the cucumber, you fool!" is perhaps the best line I've ever written. You are welcome. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I don't own H.P. obviously. I just love them all. Comment, please. I love to hear what you guys think. Follow me on Twitter at Thinkmyhappythoughts or on Twitter at Mitchel_chelsea. This story is also being uploaded on Tumblr at authormitchel.tumblr. Thanks a million. And Jo, if you're reading this, call me. I have an idea.

Professor Dumbledore ordered everyone to the Great Hall, announcing that he and the teachers needed to conduct a thorough search of the castle.

Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick closed all the doors to the Great Hall. “I’m afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately.” 

Harry spotted Percy who looked a little peaky, but stood firm. 

“Just send word with one of the ghosts.”

Professor Dumbledore paused, about to leave the hall, and said, “Oh, yes, you’ll be needing….” 

One casual wave of his wand and the long tables flew to the edges of the hall and stood themselves against the walls; another wave, and the floor was covered with hundreds of squashy purple sleeping bags. 

“Sleep well,” said Professor Dumbledore, closing the door behind him. 

The hall immediately began to buzz excitedly; the Gryffindors telling the rest of the school what had happened. 

“Everyone into their sleeping bags!” shouted Percy. “Come on now, no more talking! Lights out in ten minutes.”

“Come on,” said Millicent. As she, Harry, and Blaise gathered some sleeping bags and dragged them into a secluded corner near the front of the room. 

“Do you think Black’s still in the castle?” Harry asked. 

“Dumbledore obviously thinks he might be,” said Millicent. 

“Thank Merlin you’re a Slytherin,” said Blaise. And Harry did just that. 

Hermione found her way over to them. “You wouldn’t believe what idiotic things people are saying, like Black could get in here with a disguise and he surely couldn’t have apparated. No one apparates in or out of Hogwarts.” 

“Maybe he Floo’d in?” said Blaise. 

“Honestly,” Hermione gave Blaise a look. “ In Hogwarts….”

“A History, yes, Granger, I can read.”

Hermione huffed.

“Then you would know that the castle is protected by more than just walls. There are all sorts of enchantments on it, to stop people entering by stealth. You can’t just Apparate in here. And I’d like to see the disguise that could   
fool those dementors. They’re guarding every single entrance to the grounds. They’d have seen him fly in too. And Filch knows all the secret passages, they’ll have them covered…..”

“The lights are going out now!” Percy shouted. “I want everyone in their sleeping bags and no more talking.”

The candles all went out at once. The only light now came from the silvery ghosts, who were drifting about talking seriously to the prefects, and the enchanted ceiling, which, like the sky outside, was scattered with stars.   
What with that, and the whispering that still filled the hall, Harry felt as though he were sleeping outdoors in a light wind. 

Once every hour, a teacher would reappear in the hall to check that everything was quiet. Around three in the morning, he saw Professor Dumbledore approach Percy. 

“Any sign of him, Professor?” asked Percy in a whisper. 

“No. All well here?”

“Everything under control, sir.”

“Good. There’s no point moving them all now. I’ve found a temporary guardian for the Gryffindor portrait hole. You’ll be able to move them back in tomorrow.”

“And the Fat Lady, sir?”

“Hiding in a map of the Argyllshire on the second floor. Apparently she refused to let Black in without the password, so he attacked. She’s still very distressed, but once she’s calmed down, I’ll have Mr. Filch restore her.”

Harry heard the door of the hall creak open again, and more footsteps. 

“Headmaster?” It was Snape. Harry kept quite still, listening hard. 

“The whole third floor has been searched. He’s not there. And Filch and I have done the dungeons; nothing there either.”

“What about the Astronomy Tower? Professor Trewlawney’s room? The Owlery?”

“All searched….”

“Very well, Severus. I didn’t really expect Black to linger.”

“Have you any theory as to how he got in, Professor?” asked Snape.

Harry raised his head very slightly off his arms to free his other ear. 

“Many, Severus, each of them as unlikely as the next.”

Harry opened his eyes slightly, just enough to see Percy’s face rapt with attention, and Snape’s profile, which looked angry. 

“You remember the conversation we had, Headmaster, just before, ah, the start of term?” said Snape, who was barely opening his lips, as though trying to block Percy out of the conversation. 

“I do, Severus,” said Dumbledore, and there was something like warning in his voice. 

“It seems…almost impossible…that Black could have entered the school without inside help. I did express my concerns when you appointed….”

“I do not believe a single person inside this castle would have helped Black enter it,” said Dumbledore, his tone making it clear that the discussion was closed. “I must go down to the dementors, I said I would inform them   
when our search was complete.”

Harry shook his head and tried to get some sleep. 

 

The school talked off nothing but Sirius Black for the next few days. The theories about how he had entered the castle became wilder and wilder; Hannah Abbott, from Hufflepuff, spent much of their next Herbology class telling anyone who’d listen that Black could turn into a flowering shrub. 

The weather worsened steadily as the first Quidditch match drew nearer. Undaunted, Flint had the team training harder than ever, under the watchful eye of Madam Hooch. 

“We’re not playing the first game,” said Flint. 

“What?” asked Pucey. “Why not?”

Marcus gave him a blank look. 

“Because the weathers shite, better to let Gryffindor handle the Hufflepuffs, if they can, then for us to get out into this muck. And besides, I’m worried Malfoy here, isn’t one hundred percent yet.”

Malfoy looked at Flint defiantly, but lowered his head after Flint refused to look away. 

After practice, Flint seemed to be waiting for Harry. “Look, Potter,” Flint’s foot nudged the ground, like they were about to have a really uncomfortable conversation. 

“Look, some people don’t know if you should play or not.”

Harry huffed. 

“They think that maybe Black…..” 

“I know he’s after me,” said Harry. “I heard Mr. Weasley talking about it this summer, but I trust Dumbledore. I have to play, Flint, it’s the only thing that’s normal anymore.”

Flint seemed to consider this. 

“Well, you are one of the best seekers we’ve ever had, and you’ve done well enough.” 

Harry smiled, that was as close to gleaming praise that Marcus had ever given anyone, so Harry was going to take it. 

“Okay, Potter, I’ll tell the concerned parties that you aren’t worried.”

Harry shook his head, and followed Flint back into the castle. 

The day of the first match, the weather was worse than ever, the castle having compensated with more torches and lanterns lit. 

Harry entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and walked inside. But it wasn’t Professor Lupin’s happy face that greeted him, but Snape’s usual scowl. 

“Sir, where’s Professor Lupin?” asked Nott as Harry took his seat beside Millicent. 

“He says he is feeling too ill to teach today,” said Snape with a twisted smile. “What’s wrong with him?” Harry asked. 

“None of your concern, Mr. Potter.”

“But sir,” said Nott. “Is Professor Lupin, okay?” 

“Nothing life threatening, Mr. Nott. Now, Professor Lupin has not left any notes on the topics you have covered so far….”

Malfoy looked like he was about to volunteer the syllabus, but Snape quieted him with a look. “And since Professor Lupin is clearly lacking in his organizational skills, we shall ju….”

“He more than makes up for that, sir. He’s one of the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers we’ve ever had.” 

Silence filled the room so profound Harry was sure Ron in another classroom could hear just how quick he turned his head in Nott’s direction. Wow, thought Harry, maybe he wasn’t the only one who liked Lupin. 

Harry gave his nod of approval to Nott’s words as did several others, murmuring in agreement. Snape looked more menacing than ever. 

“I expect, Mr. Nott, that you are pleased more with the light workload than any real fondness for Professor Lupin. I would expect first years to be able to deal with Red Caps and Grindylows. That’s why today, we will be   
discussing werewolves. Everyone turn to page 394.”

“Now,” he said, glancing around to each of them. “Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between werewolves and the true wolf? You, Mr. Nott?” 

Nott shook his head, cheeks red, eyes downcast. 

“No, sir.” 

&&&

 

“Can you believe that?” said Millicent. “Two rolls of parchment about how to recognize and kill werewolves?”

“Yeah, and the day before a match, maybe Gryffindor will finally crack under the pressure,” said Malfoy happily. 

“At least,” said Blaise, coming up beside them. “At least it wasn’t vampires.” 

Goyle seemed to blanch. “Come on, Zabini, don’t say that.”

“Still scared, Goyle, you should be,” replied Blaise, waving his fingers mystically at a frightened looking Goyle. 

“Well, is it any wonder that Snape wants us to be prepared? He would have more reason to be cautious of werewolves than anyone else,” said Vincent Crabbe. 

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked.

“Haven’t you heard, Potter, Snape’s a vampire,” said Blaise. 

“No,” said Harry, though he wasn’t sure how much would be needed to convince him otherwise. 

“Yeah,” said Blaise, jumping over the side of the common room couch. “Sleeps in a coffin and everything.”

“I heard,” said Tracey Davis. “that he makes the seventh year students take a time specific poison for their NEWTS, and if they can’t brew the antidote in an hour they turn into flobberworms, so at least Professor Snape   
can get some sort of use out of them.”

“My father told me,” said Nott. “That Snape can light fires with his eyes, he doesn’t even need a wand.”

“That’s ridiculous,” said Blaise. “, but that bat thing is totally real.” 

“Come on,” drawled Draco. “If anything, it’s his Animagus form.” 

“You mean, Snape can turn into a bat,” asked Harry, a shudder moving through him.

“Those are the odds,” said Adrian Pucey who was walking by and decided to jump into their conversation. 

“But the NEWT thing is definitely true,” he claimed. 

“It is not,” called Marcus Flint who had seemed to have enough of their speculation. He gave a signal to Pucey who bounded toward the dorm, winking at the group of third years as they went. 

“But,” said Marcus. “I wouldn’t go looking him in the eye. That’s how they brainwash you.” 

“Who?” asked Malfoy, voice a little sqweaky.

“Vampires, of course,” said Marcus before vanishing into his dorm. 

After dinner, Harry gave the password and entered the common room. 

He pulled out his books and sat beside Millicent and popped open his Transfiguration book. His essay was due in two days, and he was only half way done. Millie, Blaise, Malfoy and Co. were all centered around the fire. 

“Did you see how I took out that Kappa?” Crabbe asked Tracey Davis. And Harry wondered not for the first time if Crabbe was sweet on the snobby girl. 

“Yes,” replied Davis. “And I also felt the splash Pansy made when she fell into that muck water.” 

Pansy shot Tracey a dirty look. “I still smelled better than you, the shower is that way, Davis.” She pointed to their dorm. 

“How would you know, Parkinson? Haven’t seen you use it all year.” 

Harry leaned into Millicent. 

“Aren’t they friends?”

“Yeah,” said Millicent, like the two girls bickering wasn’t any reason they couldn’t be best friends. 

“Now, Vince,” said Goyle. “I think you finally found a way into Tracey’s heart.”

“Yeah,” said Blaise. “torturing Pansy.” 

“No,” said Davis, immediately denying the claims of Crabbe getting anywhere near her. 

“Right,” answered Pansy, seeming to back Tracey up. “You only get in Tracey’s, uh, heart if you know how to dance.”

Crabbe nodded as if to say, ‘I can do that’ before offering his hand to Tracey. “Ms. Davis, may I have the honor?” 

Tracey looked quite put out about it, but took his hand anyway. 

“If my mother didn’t tell me that I couldn’t refuse any eligible wizard you could forget it, but” Then she turned to dance with the boy. 

“Doesn’t favor your chances?” Pansy asked in a superior tone. 

Tracey scoffed as Crabbe twirled her around the room. “Like your mother told you any different. You’re desperation of a mother would take anyone, even Longbottom.” 

Pansy snapped her mouth shut. Then, “That was one time, Davis. I also seem to remember you having a certain liking for….”

“DON’!” shouted Davis, pulling out of Crabbe’s arms violently. The two girls stared at each other for a long moment before coming to a sort of truce, Pansy resuming her comfortable seat on the couch and Tracey taking a   
chair, each girl firmly in the sights of the other in case anyone felt like sharing any more secrets. 

“Those were quite brilliant,” said Pansy, changing the subject. “Pity we haven’t had a chance to have a ball as of late.”

Draco sighed. “The manor always was the perfect spot for a ball.” 

The group nodded, even Millicent. 

“But,” said Goyle. “It was an even better spot for a playdate.”

“Yes,” exclaimed Millicent. “and seeing as I am still tag the peacock champion, I will have to agree with that.”

“Excuse me?” said Harry. “Tag the what?”

“It’s nothing, Potter,” said Pansy. “Only a game we used to play when we were all little.”

“You’re just bitter because you were never any good at it,” said Millicent. 

“No,” said Goyle. “It’s because one of those evil beasts bit her on the….”

Pansy levitated a pillow into Goyle’s face before he could the rest out. 

“Her bum, Potter,” supplied Blaise, who barely avoided the pillow Pansy quickly sent his way. Crabbe laughed. “But your house had the best snacks, Pans, or it did before you got that new elf.” 

Harry prepared to duck, since he was sitting close to Crabbe, but no pillow came flying their way. He watched as an odd look flittered over Pansy’s face before she quickly changed the subject. 

“Do you think Granger got in that muck puddle or not? Can you imagine the state of her hair?”

Tracey laughed cruelly. “Do you think it could look any worse?”

“It can only get better,” Pansy said. 

“You’re just jealous,” said Harry in Hermione’s defense. 

“Jealous of that filth mu….”

Harry cut her off. “Yes, you’re jealous, you’re jealous because she gets better grades than you and all the professors respect her.”

“All the professors kiss her perfect Gryffindor butt,”

“She deserves it, and you know it, Parkinson,” said Millicent. 

“I know you think that little know-it-all is your friend Bulstrode, but I wouldn’t trust that messy haired mutt with anything. She’s up to something, that Granger, I just don’t know what.” 

“Been keeping close tabs on her?” asked Millicent, not willing to back down from Pansy and her smug, pug face. 

“Just keeping track on all your strays, Bulstrode, you should be thanking me.”

Millicent huffed, but didn’t say anything else. Pansy, too, retreated back into her “corner” and Harry went back to his studying, desperately trying to not get sucked into whatever battle of wills that was about to come next.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and commenting. I, of course, do not own Harry Potter, I just like to write about him. Please, if you have questions leave comments or you can follow me on Twitter at Mitchel_chelsea ,or on tumblr at thinkmyhappythoughts.tumblr. And Jo Rowling, if you're reading this, call me I have an idea.

Harry watched as Seamus Finnigan paced back and forth in front of the Great Hall doors. 

“All right, Seamus?” Harry asked when it was clear the boy would pace all day without some sort of interference. 

“Oh, hi Harry,” the boy said in an odd tone. “All right?” he asked. 

“All right,” answered Harry. “Big game today?”

“Yeah,” Seamus answered in that weird monotone. “Big game.” 

“You’re not nervous, are you?” 

“No,” said Seamus too quickly. “Not nervous at all. It’s just Wood is very, very keen on winning today, and Ron and that darn cat have kept me up all night. Around four a.m. I was willing to sacrifice the rat myself, but Ron   
kept having to get up to block the door which meant we all had to keep getting up.”

“Ah,” said Harry, wondering when Hermione and Ron were going to give up this ridiculous feud. 

Harry clasped Seamus on the shoulder. 

“Don’t worry about it, Seamus, you know when you’re up there that the adrenaline will kick in.”

“But Oliver,”

“Wood,” Harry interrupted. “will be happy as long as you do your best. You’re a great flier, Seamus, and besides it’s just Hufflepuff.” 

“Just Hufflepuff, my arse, have you see their seeker? Cedric Diggory is a beast.”

Harry had seen Diggory, but Seamus was his friend so, “Yeah, not exactly a seeker’s build.”

Seamus seemed to consider this for a second. “That’s what Dean said.”

“See?” said Harry as if Dean Thomas’ words could affect the match and given the relieved look on Seamus’ face, maybe they could. 

Harry had thought that it was just a little bit of rain, but even sitting in the stands it seemed as if it were more than just a little bit. The rain pelted down on the crowd like tiny bee stings, and Harry could only imagine   
what it would feel like to the fliers. The stands were under large canopy like structures, supported by four posts near the corners, but the rain beat in on them sideways, and Harry knew that even with umbrellas and charms,   
that he would be soaked by the end of it. The wind was so strong he saw the players stagger as they made their way onto the field. The Slytherin team were sitting in close quarters to one another, Marcus wanted the team to take notes on the other team’s strategies, and Harry knew that the burly seventh year would demand to know what they learned from the match. 

Harry had been looking forward to the game, but now it seemed as if it was just going to be another lesson. Everytime he felt a chill Harry shuddered involuntarily. The sky was getting so dark it looked as if it were filled with dementors, cloak to cloak ready to watch the match like everyone else. 

Flint watched intently as the teams took the field, and Harry wondered where his parchment and quill were. The game started normally. The Hufflepuffs were putting up a good fight, and Cedric Diggory was indeed a great flier. Harry cheered loudly, in his head mind, every time Gryffindor got a goal. He didn’t really fancy trying to beat his friend one day, but he knew that it would be good for Seamus to get a win. 

Marcus, too, seemed pleased when Gryffindor got a point, though Harry was sure no one could tell but him. He was sitting so close to the seventh year and his Captain that he could see the slight upturn of his mouth when Wood managed to block a goal. 

Flint must be taking this whole thing seriously because he couldn’t keep his eyes off his competition. Harry would’ve been worried if it weren’t for the fact that he knew what Flint’s evil, I’m going to get you for missing that goal, smirk looked like and how he was looking at Oliver wasn’t that. No, he had never seen Flint look the way he did when he watched Oliver Wood.  
Harry rubbed his eyes and cast an Impervius on his glasses for good measure. He couldn’t have just saw what he thought he did. Then, blinking, he saw it again. A black mass floated just in the peripheral of his vision, and Seamus Finnigan was flying straight toward it. 

In a moment, the dark shape seemed to multiply outward and the weather took notice. Lightening started to strike and Madam Hooch was trying to ground everyone, but the players too desperately absorbed in the game hardly seemed to notice. 

The storm seemed to pick up then, the lightning and wind seemed to whip the canopy above their heads like it was bent on taking it off. Then Harry saw it, a sky full of dementors. And one was chasing down Seamus Finnigan. The professors in their stand clamored for calm, but everyone was running ass the dementors feel down on them. Oliver Wood was being knocked about by huge gusts of wind. Flint, beside Harry tenses, as the game went on. Then people saw them. The dementors in clear view. Harry turned to tell Millicent to run when he was shoved backward. Millicent was swept away by the people around them and Harry was lost. 

“Harry!” she screamed, but her voice quickly faded. The fliers were hitting the ground. Oliver Wood was trying his best to get his team out of the sky. Angelina Johnson was zooming by Cedric Diggory and just barely managed to get him on her broom before his crashed to the ground. Fred and George had jumped for the nearest stand abandoning their brooms as they plummeted to the Earth. Harry tried to stand when he had space to move without being trampled, but his robe had caught on one of the bleacher’s nails. The canopy above their heads had come loose at one corner and Harry could tell that a few more gusts would knock it clear off. 

Then, Harry saw it. 

The sound of an angry Bludger zooming close to him and Seamus Finnigan in front of it, trying to outrun it. The boy, unable to fly anywhere else, came barreling towards him. Harry caught only the boy’s freckled face as he flew nose to nose over Harry then into one of the canopy’s supports followed by the Bludger. Harry didn’t know which made the sickening crunch that filled his ear, Seamus or the breaking beam, but Harry knew his stomach would never be the same again. He wrenched himself free of the nail in just enough time for the beam to have its final say before it fell right on top of him. Harry landed in between the bleachers, but he was trapped. 

“Seamus! Seamus?” he shouted. “Are you all right?” Harry shouted, but the other boy didn’t or couldn’t reply. Harry lifted his wand, ready to cast the most powerful levitation charm possible, but when he looked up at the beam he was face to cloak with death. He felt the weight of the monster bearing down on him, sucking the life right out of him. And then he heard her screams. 

And Harry was met with darkness and dreams of white smoke. 

&&&

Harry woke up to someone tapping his cheek insistently with something cold and wet. 

“Don’t do that you imbecile,” barked a familiar voice. 

“Sorry,” said another familiar tone. “I saw Madam Pomfrey do it earlier.”

“She was brushing the dirt off his face, not beating him with a wet rag, Weasley.” 

“I wasn’t beating him, Bulstrode,” said Ron insistently. 

And before their voices got any louder, Harry opened his eyes. 

“Oi, Mate,” said Seamus, who was sitting on the bed right beside his. 

“What a game,” he said, brightly. Harry moved to sit up, but Hermione put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Not so fast, Harry, Madam Pomfrey said that you might have a headache.”

The room started to spin as she said that so she figured she must be right. 

“What happened?” 

“Dumbledore was really angry,” said Hermione in a quiet voice. “I’ve never seen him like that before. He ran onto the pitch and cast several charms, saving everyone. Then, he whirled his wand at the dementors. Shot silver   
stuff at them. They left the stadium right away.” 

“He was furious they came onto the grounds,” said Millicent. “Then he magicked you onto a stretcher, and here we are.” 

“Yeah,” said Seamus. “Everyone thought you were….”

His voice faded, but Harry hardly noticed. He was thinking about what the dementors had done to him….about the screaming voice. He looked up and saw his friends looking at him so anxiously that he quickly cast around for   
something matter-of-fact to say. 

“That was some great flying, there Seamus,”

“Yeah, Sea,” said Dean Thomas who bumped his shoulder into his best friends. 

Seamus seemed to blush all the way to his toes, clearly pleased with the praise. 

“Thanks guys, but I’d rather not have a repeat of that ever again.”

“I’ll try,” laughed Harry. “Maybe I’ll ask Trewlaney for suggestions.”

The group laughed even as Harry considered that might not be that bad of an idea.

Madam Pomfrey insisted that he stay in the infirmary that night, along with Seamus and Oliver Wood who had gotten the worst of it even as he managed to get the rest of his team to safety, other than Seamus. 

Harry was surprised when Flint, of all people, came to see him. “I’m just checking to make sure that you can still compete,” he said, but Harry was glad he came anyway. 

“Oi,” said Wood. “No tampering with my players.” 

Flint smiled from his chair in between Seamus and Harry’s bed, though Wood couldn’t see more than his back. 

“Don’t worry, Precious, I’m just making sure my player will be able to crush yours when we play you.”

“No need to worry about that,” said Wood in a defeated tone. Flint turned to look at him. 

“What do you mean?” Flint asked.

“I mean, Hufflepuff won. Diggory caught the snitch in all the confusion. He wanted to call a rematch, but Madam Hooch said that those were the rules. They won, and I had to agree with her.” 

Flint rolled his eyes, looking incredulous. 

“You should have let that noble Hufflepuff call a rematch,” said Flint. “You needed that win.”

“You know I couldn’t do that,” said Wood resignedly. “And besides you just want an easier team to beat for the Cup.”

Flint looked as if that wasn’t what he wanted at all. 

“And you’re just gonna give up?” Flint asked. 

“Of course not,” said Wood. “but..”

“But nothing, I didn’t know United took quitters, but then again if they do, you’ll be a shoe in.” 

“What do you know about it Flint?” said Wood, trying to rise from his bed, but the pain in his leg stopped him. Flint turning to see Wood’s struggle, stood a little too quickly and walked over to the other boy. 

“I know that it won’t mean a thing if I beat anyone other than you for the Cup.”

Wood scoffed. 

“Hate me that much do you?” 

Flint didn’t say yes or no. He only started toward the door. 

“Well?” asked Wood in a huff. “Where are you going?” 

“I’m going to practice,” said Flint with a challenging smirk. “I expect to see you out there tomorrow.”

After Flint left the room, and Harry listened to Madam Pomfrey insist that no way, no how, to Wood that he would be able to leave even for a quick fly around did Harry fall asleep, wondering if Flint even came to see him   
at all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I love hearing your comments. Thank you for your support, I love this fandom. I do not own Harry James, I just love him and his parents by the way, all three of them..... Yes, I mean you Sirius Black. And Jo, If you're reading this, tweet me, call me, send me, skywrite me, because I have an idea for you.   
> Twitter: Mitchel_chelsea   
> Tumblr: Thinkmyhappythoughts.tumblr

Professor Lupin was back at work. It certainly looked as though he had been ill. His old robes were hanging more loosely on him and there were dark shadows beneath his eyes; nevertheless; he smiled at the class as they took their seats, Nott waved at him. 

“I’m glad you’re back, sir,” said Nott. 

“Me too, Theodore, thank you for the get well note, it was very appreciated.”

“You’re welcome, sir,” said Nott. “Ah, Mrs. Davis,” Professor Lupin acknowledged her raised hand. 

“Um, Professor about the paper Professor Snape assigned us, I didn’t….”

“It’s okay,” Professor Lupin said. “You don’t have to worry about the essay, but,” he said looking at Malfoy. “If you have already done it, I will count it to you as extra credit.”

When class ended Lupin called after Harry. “I’d like a word, if you don’t mind Harry.”

“Sure,” Harry nodded. “Are you all right?” said Harry, sitting on the couch. “I’m fine, Professor.”

Lupin smiled at him, letting the lie lay. “Sir, it was the dementors.”

“Yes, I don’t think any of us have seen Professor Dumbledore that angry. They have been growing restless for some time…furious at his refusal to let them inside the grounds.”

“Yes,” said Harry. “But why? Why do they affect me like that? Am I just….”

“It has nothing to do with weakness,” said Professor Lupin sharply, as though he had read Harry’s mind. “The dementors affect you worse than others because there are horrors in your past that the others don’t have.   
Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places and glory in decay. They drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them. Muggles can feel them, they just can’t see them. If it can, the dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself…soulless and evil. The leave you with nothing but your worst experiences. And what happened to you Harry, that’s enough to hurt anyone. You have nothing to feel ashamed of.”

Harry started at Lupin’s desk, his throat tight. 

“When they get near me I can hear Voldemort. I can hear him murdering my mum.” Lupin reached out and squeezed Harry’s shoulder. He pulled back. 

“Why did they come to the match?” 

“They’re getting hungry. Dumbledore won’t let them into the school, so their supply of human prey has dried up. I don’t think they could resist the large crowd around the pitch. All that excitement, emotions running high….it was their idea of a feast.”

“Azkaban must be horrible,” Harry muttered. Lupin nodded firmly. “The fortress is set on a tiny island, way out to sea but they don’t need walls when their prisoners are all trapped inside their own heads incapable of a single cheerful thought. Most of them go mad within weeks.”

“But Sirius Black escaped from them. He got away.”   
Lupin’s briefcase slipped from the desk; he had to stoop quickly to catch it. “Yes, Black must have found a way to fight them. I wouldn’t have believed…. Dementors are supposed to drain a wizard of their power if they are too long in their presence.” 

“But you…” started Harry. “On the train..”

“Yes, there are certain defenses one can use.”

Then Lupin seemed to study him again, his tie and the cut on his cheek that he hadn’t bothered to get healed. 

“I could teach you?” Lupin offered. 

“Really?” asked Harry. 

“I don’t pretend to be an expert at fighting dementors, Harry, quite the contrary, but…” The man seemed to stop and think. 

“But you need to be able to defend yourself so if you want to lear….”

“I want to learn,” interrupted Harry. “When can we start?” 

Professor Lupin seemed to consider him. 

“It’ll have to be after the holidays. It seems as if I have chosen a very inconvenient time to fall ill.” 

What with the promise of anti-dementor lessons from Lupin, the thought that he might never have to hear his mother’s death again, and the fact that Ravenclaw flattened Hufflepuff in their Quidditch match at the end of   
November, Harry’s mood took a definite upturn even if he still wasn’t allowed to visit Hogsmeade. 

On the Saturday morning of the Hogsmeade trip, Harry bid good-bye to his friends, then turned up the marble staircase alone, and headed back to the dungeons. Snow had started to fall outside the window, and the castle was very still and quiet. 

“Psst…. Harry!” 

He turned, hallway along the third-floor corridor, to see Fred and George, peering out at him from behind a statue of a humpbacked, one-eyed witch. 

“What are you doing?” said Harry curiously. “How come you’re not going to Hogsmeade?”

“We’ve come to give you a bit of festive cheer before we go,” said Fred, with a mysterious wink. “Come in here….”

He nodded toward an empty classroom to the left of the one-eyed witch. Harry followed Fred and George inside. George closed the door quietly and then turned, beaming, to look at Harry. 

“Early Christmas present for you, Harry,” he said. 

Fred pulled something from inside his cloak with a flourish and laid it one of the desks. It was a large, square, and very worn piece of parchment with nothing written on it. Harry, suspecting one of Fred and George’s jokes,   
stared at it. 

“What’s that supposed to be?”

“This, Harry, is the secret of our success,” said George, patting the parchment fondly. 

“It’s a wrench, giving it to you,” said Fred. “, but we decided last night, your need is greater than ours.”

“Anyway we know it by heart,” said George. “We bequeath it to you, Harry. We don’t really need it anymore.”

“And what do I need with an old bit of parchment?” said Harry. 

“A bit of old parchment!” said Fred, closing his eyes with a grimace as though Harry had mortally offended him. “Explain, George.”

“Well….when we were in our first year, Harry, young, carefree, and innocent..”

Harry snorted. He doubted whether Fred and George had ever been innocent. 

“Well, more innocent than we are now, we got into a bit of bother with Filch..”

“We let off a Dungbomb in the corridor, and it upset him for some reason….”

“So he hauled us off to his office and started threatening us with the usual….”

“Detention.”

“Disembowelment.”

“And after noticing a drawer marked Confiscated and Highly Dangerous.”

“Well, what would you’ve done?” said Fred. 

Fred then held out the parchment. 

He took out his wand, touched the parchment lightly, and said, “I solemnly swear that I up to no good.” 

And at once, thin ink lines began to spread like a spider’s web from the point that George’s wand had touched. They joined each other, they crisscrossed, they fanned into every corner of the parchment; then words began to blossom across the top, great, curly green words, that proclaimed.   
Messers. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present

The Marauders Map

It was map showing every detail of the Hogwarts castle and grounds. But the truly remarkable thing were the tiny ink dots moving around it, each labeled with a name in minuscule writing. Astounded, Harry bent over it.   
He saw Dumbledore and Mrs. Norris. Everyone in the castle. 

This map showed a set of passages he had never entered. And many of them seemed to lead….

“To Hogsmeade,” said Fred, tracing one of them with his finger. “There are seven in all.” They then laid out all the passageways. The ones that Filch knew about and the ones that only they knew about. Including one that led right into Honeyduke’s cellar.

“Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs,” sighed George, like he was lovesick. “We owe them so much.”

“Noble men, working tirelessly to help a new generation of lawbreakers,” said Fred solemnly. 

“Right,” said George briskly. “Don’t forget to wipe it after you’ve used it…”

“or anyone can read it,” Fred said warningly. 

“Just tap it and say, ‘Mischief Managed!’ And it’ll go blank.” 

“So, young Harry,” said Fred, in an uncanny impersonation of Percy, “mind you behave yourself.”

“See you in Honeydukes,” said George winking. 

They left the room, both smirking in a satisfied sort of way. 

Harry found the passageway easy enough, with the help of the map and his invisibility cloak and was in Hosgmeade before he knew it. 

He found Hermione, Ron, and Neville in Zonkos, and Millicent and Blaise in the Stationary shop. He had to side step Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy to get to them, but it was worth it. He sidestepped Crabbe, causing him to   
bump into Malfoy who dumped a whole vial of ink down his front. Harry followed it with the quick dry charm that he uses on his homework then fought to stifle his laughter as Malfoy was told he would have to pay for the   
solid gold vial of ink, not that he couldn’t afford it. 

“Shall we go for a butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks?” Ron asked, pulling his hands to his mouth to puff warm air on them. 

Harry was more than willing; the wind was fierce and his hands were freezing, so they crossed the road, and in a few minutes were entering the tiny inn.

It was extremely crowded, noisy, warm, and smoky. A curvy sort of woman with a pretty face was serving a bunch of warlocks at the bar. Ron offered to go get their drinks as Millicent and Hermine shared a knowing look. 

They made their way to the back of the room toward a small vacant table. “Merry Christmas!” said Ron happily, handing them their butterbeers.   
Harry drank deeply. It was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted and it seemed to warm every bit of him from the inside.   
A sudden breeze ruffled his hair. The door of the Three Broomsticks had opened again. Harry looked over the rim of his tankard and choked. 

Professor McGonagall and Flitwick had just entered the pub with a flurry of snowflakes, shortly followed by Hagrid, who was deep in conversation with a portly man in a lime-green bowler hat and a pinstriped cloak,   
Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic. 

Millicent and Blaise seemed to work together to usher Harry out of sight, underneath the table. 

Next, he saw another pair of feet, wearing sparkly turquoise high heels, and heard a woman’s voice. 

“A small gillywater….”

“Mine,” said Professor McGonagall’s voice. 

“Four pints of mulled mead…”

“Ta, Rosmerta,” said Hagrid.

“A cherry syrup and soda with ice and umbrella…”

“Mmm!” said Professor Flitwich, smacking his lips. 

“So you’ll be the red currant rum, Minister…”

“Thank you, Rosmerta, m’dear,” said Fudge’s voice. “Lovely to see you again, I must saw. Have one yourself, won’t you? Come and join us….”

“Well, thank you very much, Minister. So, what brings you to this neck o the woods, Minister?” came Madam Rosmerta’s voice after a moment. 

Harry saw the lower part of Fudge’s thick body twist in his chair as though he were checking for eavesdroppers. Then he said in a quiet voice. “What else, m’dear, but Sirius Black? I daresay you heard what happened up at   
the school at Halloween?”

“I did hear a rumor,” admitted Madam Rosmerta. 

“Did you tell the whole pub, Hagrid?” said Professor McGonagall exasperatedly. 

“Do you think Black’s still in the area, Minister?” whispered Madam Rosmerta. 

“I’m sure of it,” said Fudge shortly. 

“Do you know I still have trouble believing it,” said Madam Rosmerta thoughtfully. “Of all the people to go over to the Dark Side, Sirius Black was the last I’d have thought… I mean, I remember him when he was a boy at   
Hogwarts. If you’d told me then what he was going to become, I’d have said you’d had too much mead.”

“You don’t know the half of it, Rosmerta,” said Fudge gruffly. “The worst he did isn’t widely known.”

“The worst?” said Madam Rosmerta, her voice alive with curiosity. “Worse than murdering all those poor people, you mean?” 

“I certainly do,” said Fudge.

“I can’t believe that.” 

“You say you remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta,” murmured Professor McGonagall. “Do you remember who his best friend was?” 

“Naturally,” said Madam Rosmerta, with a small fond laugh. “Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here…ooh, they used to make me laugh. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and   
James Potter!”

Harry nearly dropped his tankard with a loud clank. 

“Precisely,” said Professor McGonagall. “Black and Potter. Ringleaders of their little gang. Both very bright, of course, exceptionally bright, in fact, but I don’t think we’ve ever had such a pair of troublemakers….” 

“I dunno,” chuckled Hagrid. “Fred and George Weasley could give ‘em a run for their money.”

“You would have thought Black and Potter were brothers!” chimed in Professor Flitwick. “Inseparable!”

“Of course they were,” said Fudge. “Potter trusted Black beyond all his other friends. Nothing changed when they left school. Black was best man when James married Lily Then they named him godfather to Harry. Harry   
has no idea, of course. You can imagine how the idea would torment him.”

“Because Black turned out to be in league with You-Know-Who?” whispered Madam Rosmerta. 

“Worse even than that, m’dear….” Fudge dropped his voice and proceeded in a sort of low rumble. “Not many people are aware that the Potters knew You-Know-Who was after them. Dumbledore, who was of course   
working tirelessly against You-Know-Who, had a number of useful spies. One of them tipped him off, and he alerted James and Lily at once. He advised them to go into hiding. Well, of course, You-Know-Who wasn’t an easy   
person to hide from. Dumbledore told them their best chance was the Fidelus Charm.”

“How does it work?” said Madam Rosmerta. 

Professor Flitwick cleared his throat. “An immensely complex spell, involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret-Keeper, and is henceforth impossible to find, unless, of course, the Secret-Keeper chooses to divulge it. As long as the Secret Keeper refused to speak, You-Know-Who could search the village where Lily and James were staying for years and never find them, not even if he had his nose pressed against their sitting room window!” 

“So, Black was the Potter’s secret keeper?” said Madam Rosmerta. 

“Naturally,” said Professor McGonagall. “James Potter told Dumbledore that Black would die rather than tell where they were, that Black was planning to go into hiding himself… and yet, Dumbledore remained worried. I remember him offering to be the Potter’s Secret-Keeper himself.”

“He suspected Black?” gasped Madam Rosmerta. 

“He was sure that somebody close to the Potters had been keeping You-Know-Who informed of their movements,” said Professor McGonagall darkly. “Indeed, he had suspected for some time that someone on our side had   
turned traitor and was passing a lot of information to You-Know-Who.”

“But James Potter insisted on using Black?”

“He did,” said Fudge heavily. “And then, barely a week after the Fidelius Charm had been performed….” 

“Black betrayed them?” breathed Madam Rosmerta. 

“He did indeed. Black was tired of his double-agent role, he was ready to declare his support openly for You-Know-Who, and he seems to have planned this for the moment of the Potters’ death. But, as we all know, You-  
Know-Who met his downfall in little Harry Potter. Powers gone, horribly weakened, he fled. And this left Black in a very nasty position indeed. His master had fallen at the very moment when he, Black, had shown his true colors   
as a traitor. He had no choice but to run for it..”

“Filthy, stinkin’ turncoat!” Hagrid said, so loudly that half the bar went quiet. 

“Shhh!” said Professor McGonagall. 

“I met him!” growled Hagrid. “I musta bin the last ter see him before he killed all them people! It was me what rescued Harry from Lily an’ James’s house after they was killed! Jus’ got him outta the ruins, poor little thing,   
with a great slash acorss his forehead, an’ his parents dead….an’ Sirius Black turns up, on that flyin’ motorbike he used ter ride. Never occurred ter me what he was doin’ there. I didn’ know he’d bin Lily an’ James’s Secret-  
Keeper. Thought he’d jus’ heard the news o’ You-Know-Who’s attack an’ come ter see what he could do. White an’ shakin’ he was. An’ yeh know what I did? I COMFORTED THE MURDERIN’ TRAITOR!” Hagrid roared. 

“Hagrid, please!” said Professor McGonagall, but Harry felt even warmer toward his friend then he thought possible. “Keep your voice down!” 

“How was I ter know he wasn’ upset about’ Lily an’ James?” It was You-Know-Who he cared about’! An’ then he says, “Give Harry ter me, Hagrid, I’m his godfather, I’ll look after him…. ;Ha! But I’d had me orders from   
Dumbledore, an’ I told Black no, Dumbledore said Harry was ter go ter his aunt an’ uncles’s. Black argued, but in the end he gave in. Told me ter take his motorbike ter get Harry there. ‘I won’t need it anymore,’ he says. 

“I shoulda known there was something’ fishy goin’ on then. He loved that motorbike, what was he givin’ it ter me for? Why wouldn’ he need it anymore? Fact was, it was too easy ter trace. Dumbledore knew he’d bin the   
Potter’s Secret-Keeper. Black knew he was goin’ ter have ter run fer it that night, knew it was a matter o’ hours before the Ministry was after him.”

“But what if I’d given Harry to him, eh? I bet he’d’ve pitched him off the bike halfway out ter sea. His bes’ friends son! But when a wizard goes over ter the dark Side, there’s nothing, and no one that matters to ‘em anymore….” 

A long silence followed Hagrid’s story. Then Madam Rosmerta said with some satisfaction, “But he didn’t manage to disappear did he? The Ministry of Magic caught up with him next day!” 

“Alas, if only we had,” said Fudge bitterly. “It was not we who found him. It was little Peter Pettigrew, another of Potter’s friends. Maddened by grief, no doubt, and knowing that Black had been the Secret-Keeper, he went   
after Black himself.”

“Pettigrew, that fat little boy who was always taggin around after them at Hogwarts?” said Madam Rosmerta. 

“Hero-worshipped Black and Potter,” said Professor McGonagall. “Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I…how I regret that now….” She sounded as though she   
had a sudden head cold. 

“There, now, Minerva,” said Fudge kindly, “Pettigrew died a hero’s death. Eyewitnesses, Muggles, of course, we wiped their memories later, told us how Pettigrew cornered Black. They say he was sobbing, ‘Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?’ And then he went for his wand. Well, of course, Black was quicker. Blew Pettigrew to smithereens…..”

Professor McGonagall blew her nose and said thickly, “Stupid boy…foolish boy… he was always hopeless at dueling…should have left it to the Ministry…”

“I tell yeh, if I’d got ter Black before little Pettigrew did, I would’t’ve messed around with wands, I’d’ve ripped him limb from limb…” growled Hagrid. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Hagrid,” said Fudge sharply. “Nobody but trained Hit Wizards from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad would have stood a chance against Black once he was cornered. I was a   
Junior Minister in the Department of Magical Catastrophes at the time, and I was one of the first on the scene after Black murdered all those people… I will never forget it. I still dream about it sometimes. A crater in the middle   
of the street, so deep it had cracked the sewer below. Bodies everywhere. Muggle screaming. And Black standing there laughing, with what was left of Pettigrew in front of him… a heap of bloodstained robes and a few….few fragments.”

Fudge’s voice stopped abruptly. There was the sound of five noses being blown. 

“Well, there you have it, Rosmerta,” said Fudge thickly. “Black was taken away by twenty members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad and Pettigrew received the Order of Merlin, First Class, which I think was some comfort   
to his poor mother. Black’s been in Azkaban ever since.” 

Madam Rosmerta let out a long sigh. 

“Is it true he’s mad, Minister?”

“I wish I could say that he was,” said Fudge slowly. “I certainly believe his master’s defeat unhinged him for a while. The murder of Pettigrew and all those Muggles was the action of a cornered and desperate man…cruel…  
pointless. Yet I met Black on my last inspection of Azkaban. You know, most of the prisoners in there sit muttering to themselves in the dark; there’s no sense in them…but I was shocked at how normal Black seemed. He   
spoke quite rationally to me. It was unnerving. You’d have thought he was merely bored…asked if I’d finished with my newspaper, cool as you please, said he missed doing the crossword. Yes, I was astounded at how little effect the dementors seemed to be having on him…and he was one of the most heavily guarded in the place, you know, Dementors outside his door day and night.” 

“But what do you think he’s broken out to do?” said Madam Rosmerta. “Good gracious, Minister, he isn’t trying to rejoin You-Know-Who, is he?”

“I daresay that is his…er. Eventual plan,” said Fudge evasively. “But we hope to catch Black long before that. I must say, You-Know-Who alone and friendless is one thing…but give him back his most devoted servant, and I   
shudder to think how quickly he’ll rise again…”

There was a small chink of glass on wood. Someone had set down their glass. Professor McGonagall and the rest rose from the table, bid goodbye to Madam Rosmerta and left, but Harry barely registered it. 

Harry rushed back to Honeydukes, through the cellar, and went straight toward his dormitory. He had stared at the photo hundreds of times, but if he didn’t know he would never have guessed that they were the same   
person. He opened the album, and stopped on a picture of his parent’s wedding day. There was his father waving up at him, beaming, the untidy black hair Harry had inherited standing up in all directions. There was his mother, alight with happiness, arm in arm with his dad. And there…that must be him. Their best man… Harry had never given him a thought before. 

His face wasn’t sunken and waxy, but handsome, full of laughter. Had he already been working for Voldemort when this picture had been taken? Was he already planning the deaths of the two people next to him? Did he realize he was facing twelve years in Azkaban, twelve years that would make him unrecognizable?

But the dementors don’t affect him, Harry thought, staring into the handsome, laughing face. He doesn’t have to hear my mom screaming if they get to close….

Harry slammed the album shut, reached over and stuffed it back into his cabinet, took off his robe and glasses and got into bed, making sure the hangings were hiding him from view. Then he heard the dormitory doors open. 

“Potter?” It was Millicent. 

Then, “We’ll help you.”

Harry opened his curtains. 

“What?” he said. 

Millicent and Blaise stood there. “We’ll help you, find Black, take him out, whatever.”

“What?” Harry repeated again. 

Blaise stepped forward. 

“Remember that we don’t think it’s the brightest thing to do, but we’re here for you no matter what.” 

Harry nodded. 

“But we’ll be smart,” added Millicent. “There will be no barging around and knocking things over like the Gryffindors do, you heard what McGonagall said as well as we did. Black is smart, one of the cleverest boys in their year,   
and that means that we have to use all the cunning we can to catch him.”

“He killed my parents,” said Harry. “He betrayed them. Did you know?”

He had already worked out that Malfoy knew. What he said in potions that day clicked with what he knew now, but he wondered if his friends knew anything about it. 

“I knew that Pettigrew’s mother only got to bury a finger after his duel with Black, but all it’s ever been is speculation, a legend that we were always too young to know the whole of, but Draco’s father,” said Millicent. 

“It was always rumored that Draco’s father,” Blaise whispered. “was in league with You-Know-Who.”

The day only got worse when he received a letter from Hagrid. Buckbeak was being put on trial for what had happened with Malfoy, and from what Hermione could dig up, it didn’t seem as if he had the best chances. 

Harry wrote to Hagrid saying that he would try to help in any way that he could. If only helping meant that he could strangle Malfoy then he’d only be too willing to oblige. 

On Christmas morning, Harry woke and went to open his presents. It was still a novel experience, considering what he had lived with before, and he was thankful for every one, though at times he still thought he would wake up to an empty tree. 

He was just eyeing a present from Mrs.Weasley when something caught his eyes. 

“What’s that?” said Blaise, looking over a rather large box of his own. 

“Dunno…”

Harry ripped the parcel open and gaped as a magnificent gleaming broomstick rolled out onto his bedspread. Blaise dropped his package and jumped off his bed for a closer look. 

“That’s a Firebolt,” he said incredulously. 

It’s handle glittered as he picked it up. He could feel it vibrating and let go; it hung in midair, unsupported, at exactly the right height for him to mount it. His eyes moved from the golden registration number at the top of the   
handle, right down to the perfectly smooth, streamlined birch twigs that made up the tail. 

“Who sent it to you?” said Blaise. 

Harry look, but there was no card to be found. 

“It has to be Dumbledore,” said Blaise, and Harry found himself agreeing. In no universe would it have been from the Dursleys, and Harry highly doubted that Professor Lupin would have the funds, and as much as Professor McGonagall liked him, he did play for an opposing team. Maybe it came from Snape, he thought wryly before laughing a little at that absurd idea. 

“We should show it to Millicent,” Blaise suggested. 

Millicent took one look at the broom and instantly said, “It’s jinxed.”

“What?” Harry asked. 

“It’s jinxed, it has to be,” she said. “No note, no return to sender. You get a random package with a madman on the loose, and you automatically think that what, it’s a gift from Merlin?”

“Well, what do you want to do with it? Take it to Snape?”

Millicent shook her head. 

“You can’t be serious,” Harry said incredulously, clutching the beauty of a broom to his chest. 

“Snape will know what’s wrong with it, if anything, but he’ll want you to be able to use it,”

“He hates me,” said Harry. 

“Maybe,” said Blaise, “but he does love winning. And this is an international standard broom. You’ll be able to knock them all out of the sky.” 

“What about Lupin?” Harry thought suddenly. 

“I don’t care with whom you share your broomstick, Potter, as long as you don’t get knocked off it again this year.”

“Hey,” shouted Harry. “That happened what?”

“Two years running,” Blaise said, eyes rolling. 

“Right,” said Harry. “Fine, I’ll take it to Lupin.”

Classes started after Christmas soon enough, and Harry was quick to catch up with Lupin about his promise of anti-dementor lessons. 

“Ah yes,” said Lupin, when Harry reminded him of his promise at the end of class. “Let me see….how about eight o’clock on Thursday evening? The History of Magic classroom should be large enough.” 

“Still looks ill, doesn’t he?” said Millicent as they walked down the corridor, heading to dinner. “I wonder what’s wrong with him.”

At eight o’clock on Thursday evening, Harry left Gryffindor Tower for the History of Magic classroom. It was dark and empty when he arrived, but he lit the lamps with his wand and had waited only five minutes, when   
Professor Lupin turned up, carrying a large packing case, which he heaved onto Professor Binns’ desk. 

“What’s that?” said Harry. 

“Another boggart,” said Lupin, stripping off his cloak. “I’ve been combing the castle ever since Tuesday, and very luckily, I found this one lurking inside Mr. Filch’s filing cabinet. It’s the nearest we’ll get to a real dementor. The boggart will turn into a dementor when he sees you, so we’ll be able to practice on him. I can store him in my office when we’re not using him; there’s a cupboard under my desk he’ll like.”

“Okay,” said Harry, trying to sound as though he wasn’t apprehensive at all and merely glad that Lupin had found such a good substitute for a real dementor. 

“So….” Professor Lupin had taken out his wand, and indicated that Harry should do the same. “The spell I am going to try and teach you is highly advanced magic, Harry. It is well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level. It is called the Patronus Charm.”

“How does it work?” said Harry nervously. 

“Well, when it works correctly, it conjures up a Patronus,” said Lupin, “which is a kind of anti-dementor, a guardian that acts as a shield between you and the dementor.”

Harry had a sudden vision of himself crouching behind a Hagrid sized figure holding a large club. Professor Lupin continued, “The Patronus is a kind of positive force, a projection of the very things that the dementor   
feeds upon, hope, happiness, the desire to survive, but it cannot feel despair, as real humans can, so the dementors can’t hurt it. But I must warn you, Harry, that the charm might be too advanced for you. Many qualified wizards have difficulty with it.”

“What does a Patronus look like?” 

“Each one is unique to the wizard who conjures it, and you conjure it with an incantation, which will only work if you are concentrating with all your might on a single, very happy memory.” 

Harry cast his mind for a happy memory then inspired by the firebolt, decided on the first time that he ever rode a broomstick. 

“Right,” he said, trying to recall as exactly as possible the wonderful, soaring sensation of his stomach. 

“The incantation,” said Professor Lupin. “is Expecto Patronum!” 

“Expecto Patronum,” Harry repeated under his breath. “Expecto Patronum.”

“Concentrating on your happy memory?”

“Yeah,” said Harry, quickly forcing his thoughts back to that first broom ride. “Expecto Patronum….Expecto Patronum…Expecto Patronum…”

Something whooshed suddenly out the end of his wand; it looked like a wisp of silvery gas. 

“Did you see that?” said Harry excitedly. “Something happened.”

“Very good,” said Lupin, smiling. “Right, then, ready to try it on a dementor?”

“Yes,” Harry said, gripping his wand very tightly, and moving into the middle of the deserted classroom. He tried to keep his mind on flying, but something else kept intruding…..Any second now, he might hear his mother   
again…but he shouldn’t think that, or he would hear her again, and he didn’t want to…..did he?

Lupin grasped the lid of the packing case and pulled. 

A dementor rose slowly from the box, its hooded face turned toward Harry, one glistening, scabbed hand gripping its cloak. The lamps around the classroom flickered and went out. The dementor stepped from the box   
and started to sweep silently toward Harry, drawing a deep, rattling breath. A wave of piercing cold broke over him…..

“Expecto Patronum!” Harry yelled. “Expecto Patronum! Expecto Pa….”

But the classroom and the dementor were dissolving….Harry was falling again through thick white fog, and his mother’s voice was louder than ever, echoing inside his head….”Not Harry! Not Harry! Please, I’ll do anything….”

“Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!” 

“Harry?” 

Harry jerked back to life. He was lying flat on his back on the floor. The classroom lamps were alight again. He didn’t have to ask what had happened. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, sitting up and feeling cold sweat trickling down behind his glasses. 

“Are you all right?” said Lupin. 

“Yes…..” Harry pulled himself up on one of the desks and leaned against it. 

“Here….” Lupin handed him a Chocolate Frog. “Eat this before we try again. I didn’t expect you to do it your first time; in fact, I would have been astounded if you had.”

“It’s getting worse,” Harry muttered, biting off the Frog’s head. “I could hear her louder that time, and him….Voldemort.”

Lupin looked paler than normal. 

“Harry, if you don’t want to continue, I will more than understand.”

“I do!” said Harry fiercely, stuffing the rest of the Chocolate Frog inside his mouth. “I’ve got too. What if the dementors turn up at one of our matches? I can’t afford to fall off again.” 

“All right then,” said Lupin. “You might want to select another memory, a happy memory, I mean, to concentrate on…That one doesn’t seem to have been strong enough…” 

Harry thought hard and decided on his first Christmas at Hogwarts. Playing in the snow with the Weasleys, getting presents, getting whipped in chess by Millicent.

“Okay, I’m ready,” 

Harry cast the incantation again. “Expecto Patronum….Expecto Patron…..”

White fog obscured his senses…big, blurred shapes were moving around him…then came a new voice, a man’s voice, shouting, panicking….

“Lily, take Harry and go! It’s him! Go! Run! I’ll hold him off….”

The sounds of someone stumbling from a room…. A door bursting open….a cackle of high-pitched laughter….

“Harry! Harry…wake up…”

Lupin was tapping Harry hard on the face. This time it was a minute before Harry understood why he was lying on a dusty classroom floor. 

Harry heaved a breath. 

“I heard my dad,” Harry felt like he couldn’t breathe. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard him, that I’ve ever heard his voice….he tried to take on Voldemort himself, to give my mum time to run for it….”

Harry suddenly realized that there were tears on his face mingling with the sweat. He bent his face as low as possible, wiping them off on his robes, pretending to do up his shoelace, so that Lupin wouldn’t see.

“You heard James?” said Lupin in a strange voice. 

“Yeah…” Face dry, Harry looked up. “Why? Did you, did you know my dad?”

“I….I did, as a matter of fact,” said Lupin. “We were friends at Hogwarts. Listen, Harry, perhaps we should leave it here for tonight. This charm is ridiculously advanced….I shouldn’t have even suggested this.”

“No!” said Harry. He got up again. “I’ll have one more go! I’m not thinking happy enough things, that’s what it is….Hang on…”

He racked his brains. A really, really happy memory…one that he could turn into a good, strong Patronus. Then Harry thought of what it felt like to finally leave the Dursleys for Hogwarts. 

Lupin made sure he was ready, then pulled the lid of the case open.

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!” Harry bellowed. “EXPECTO PATRONUM! EXPECTO PATRONUM!

The screaming inside Harry’s head had started again, except this time, it sounded as though it were coming from a badly tuned radio, softer and louder and softer again, and he could still see the dementor. It had halted, and then a huge, silver shadow came bursting out of the end of Harry’s wand, to hover between them and the dementor, and though Harry’s legs felt like water, he was still on his feet, though for how much longer he wasn’t sure.

“Riddikulus!” roared Lupin, springing forward. 

There was a loud crack, and Harry’s cloudy Patronus vanished along with the dementor; he sank into a chair, feeling as exhausted as if he’d just run a mile, and felt his legs shaking. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Professor Lupin forcing the boggart back into the packing case with his wand, once again a silvery orb. 

“Excellent!” Lupin said, striding over to where Harry sat. “Excellent, Harry! That was definitely a start.”

“Can we have another go? Just one more?”

“Not now,” said Lupin firmly. “You’ve had enough for one night. Here….”

He handed Harry some more chocolate. 

“Eat the lot, or Madam Pomfrey will be after my blood. Same time next week?”

“Okay,” said Harry. He took a bite of chocolate and watched Lupin move to extinguish the lamps, he thought of how to ask his next question. 

“Professor Lupin?” he said. “If you knew my dad, you must’ve known Sirius Black as well.”

Lupin turned very quickly.

“What gives you that idea?” he said sharply.

“Nothing… I mean, I just knew they were friends at Hogwarts too…..”

Lupin’s face relaxed. 

“Yes, I knew him,” he said shortly. “Or I thought I did. You’d better be off, Harry, it’s getting late.”

Harry gathered his things. Lupin clearly didn’t want to talk about it, but Harry did. “I’m getting better, I think,” he said as they walked toward the door. 

“Do you think, Professor, that when I can cast a Patronus properly, I mean, that I won’t be able to hear them anymore?”

Lupin stopped in his tracks, a horrible look on his face that he couldn’t wipe away fast enough. 

“I don’t know, Harry, I don’t know.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and for the lovely comments, you know who you are, I appreciate it more than I can ever properly say. I, of course, do not own Harry, at least, not alone. I feel like he is all of ours, so thank you for sharing him with me. And Jo, if you're reading this, call me, tweet me @Mitchel_chelsea ,stop bantering with Stephen King and send me a message on Tumblr ,at thinkmyhappythoughts.tumblr. because I have an idea.

“You’re expecting too much of yourself,” said Professor Lupin sternly in their fourth week of practice. “For a thirteen-year-old wizard, even an indistinct Patronus is a huge achievement. You aren’t passing out anymore, are you?”

“I thought a Patronus would charge the dementors down or something,” said Harry dispiritedly. “Make them disappear…..”

“The true Patronus does do that,” said Lupin. “But you’ve achieved a great deal in a very short space of time. If the dementors put in an appearance at your next Quidditch match, you will be able to keep them at bay long   
enough for you to get back on the ground.”

“You said it’s harder if there are loads of them,” said Harry.

“I have complete confidence in you,” said Lupin, smiling. “Here, you’ve earned a drink, something from the Three Broomsticks. You won’t have tried it before…”

He pulled two bottles out of his briefcase, and fought to control his surprise at seeing the delicious drink once again. 

They drank the butterbear in silence, until Harry voiced something he’d been wondering for a while. 

“What’s under a dementor’s hood?”

Professor Lupin lowered his bottle thoughtfully. 

“Hmmmm…well, only the people who really know are in no condition to tell us. You see, the dementor lowers its hood only to use its last and worst weapon.”

“What’s that?” 

“They call it the Dementor’s Kiss,” said Lupin, with a slightly twisted smile. “It’s what dementors do to those they wish to destroy utterly. I suppose there must be some kind of mouth under there, because they clamp their jaws   
upon the mouth of the victim and….and they suck out his soul.”

Harry accidentally spat out a bit of butterbeer. 

“What…they kill?”

“Oh no,” said Lupin. “Much worse than that. You can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart are still working. But you’ll have no sense of self anymore, no memory, no….anything. There’s no   
chance at all of recovery. You’ll just…exist. As an empty shell. And your soul is gone forever….lost.”

Lupin drank a little more butterbeer, then said, “It’s the fate that awaits Sirius Black. It was in the Daily Prophet this morning. The Ministry have given the dementors permission to perform it if they find him.”

Harry sat stunned for a moment at the idea of someone having their soul sucked out through their mouth. But then he thought of Black. 

“Good,” said Harry. “He deserves it.”

“You think so?” said Lupin lightly. “Do you really think anyone deserves that?”

“Yes,” said Harry defiantly. “There should be consequences for murder or other heinous acts. You said that you were friends with him and my father, how could someone you would be friends with change that much? Was   
he always capable of what he did or did he become that?”

Professor Lupin looked at Harry soundly. 

“I don’t believe,” he stared. “, that people are born evil. I think certain events may tempt them to the Dark, but….” He stopped. “When I knew Sirius in school he wasn’t the person that he is now, and he certainly wasn’t the kind   
of person, or at least I thought, who could….who could do what he did.”

Harry nodded. 

“I just couldn’t see Millicent or Ron or Neville becoming mass murderers. It’s just not in them.”

“It’s hard to tell,” Lupin said impatiently and Harry knew that he was growing weary of this conversation, but Harry wanted him to talk about his parents. He wanted to know if this man knew or had a clue about why Black   
had done what he did. 

“But he was friends with my dad? Right?” Harry pressed. 

“Yes,” Lupin answered shortly. 

“Well, was my dad like that?”

“No of course not,” Lupin said, moving around the classroom trying to pack everything up so he could get out of there and away from Harry. 

“No,” Harry said, “Because my father landed on the other side. My father fought against Voldemort. That’s what he’s saying when I hear him. He’s telling my mother to run, to save us, that he’ll hold him off. Then, my   
mum, she begs for our lives.” 

Lupin flicks the door open loudly with his wand, clearly upset. 

“Harry, your father was a very brave man and yes, Sirius was our friend, but sometimes people change.” 

“Yes, but you knew him.”

“Yes,” said Lupin shortly. He was talking quite quickly now. “Sirius and your father and I were friends, but sometimes people aren’t who you expect them to be, sometimes you miss things that should have been obvious or over   
look things because of the way that you feel about them. Sometimes you make excuses, I don’t know…. It’s complicated.”

“So you think that he deserves to die for what he did to m….to all those muggles?”

“It’s not that easy,” said Lupin, then noticing Harry’s expression. “I think it’s better if we leave this conversation here, some things you’re still not quite old enough to understand.”

“I’m old enough.”

“Your thirteen,” Lupin rationalized.

“What does that matter? Black couldn’t have been what twenty something when he killed those Muggles, my parents the same age when they fought in a war.”

“You don’t understand!” Lupin nearly roared, and Lupin never raised his voice. “Harry, I think it’s time for you to head back to the dungeons.” 

Harry grabbed his things and headed to the door. He had allowed his emotions to overrule him, and had lost his head. 

He apologized quickly to Professor Lupin then left the classroom, hoping that he hadn’t ruined his shot at more lessons in the future. 

Harry walked down the hall back to the dungeons. It was late, and he hadn’t grabbed a pass from Professor Lupin like he normally did. Harry just hoped he didn’t run into anyone before he….

“Potter!” 

Harry froze mid-step. He turned to the right and breathed a sigh of relief. It was Marcus Flint, looking rather flustered.

Harry already had an excuse as to why he was out instead of in the common room when he saw what was in Marcus’ hands. 

“You got a Firebolt and the first thing you do is hide it under your bed?” Flint sounded scandalized. Shocked and disgusted. 

“Why, Potter? Why?”

Harry looked at the broom in Flint’s hands, hoping Millicent wasn’t right and that there wasn’t some sort of hex on the thing. He had meant to ask Lupin about it today, but that clearly didn’t happen. 

“Because,” he answered. “I don’t know where it came from.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” said Flint. “We could have had this thing in the sky as soon as you got it. I mean, we should go right now. It’s a bit dark, but I’m sure Snape would right us a pass,”

Harry waited for Flint’s common sense to catch up with his enthusiasm. 

“I mean, can you imagine what you can do with this? The Nimbus 2001’s are great, but Potter, POTTER, THIS IS A FIRE…..oh,” said Flint, and it was like Flint had been told that he would never be able to fly again. 

“You don’t know who you got this from?”

“No note,” Harry answered, as Flint set the Firebolt on the floor then levitated it with magic, so he would no longer have to touch it. 

“We need to take this to Professor Snape,” 

Harry nodded, matching Flint’s forlorn look at the Firebolt, knowing that as soon as it was in Snape’s hands he would never see it again. 

Snape looked delirious with glee as Marcus told him what he knew about the Firebolt. 

“I will have to keep this, Potter, you understand. I’ll need to check it for curses and hexes, strip it down.” Snape ignored the look of outrage on Flint’s face as he focused on the discouragement in Harrys. 

“And here I thought you had slightly more sense than this, this could have been anything,” Snape said. 

“I did,” Harry tried to defend. “I was going to take it to Professor Lupin, but…but I never got the chance.” Harry didn’t want to talk about what had happened with Lupin because that meant that he would have to talk about   
his parents, and there was no way he was going to mention them in front of Snape. 

“Then why didn’t you?” Snape asked, and he sounded more angry than amused at Harry’s torture. 

“He wasn’t interested,” said Harry. 

Snape’s eyed him suspiciously. 

“What did he say when you asked him to check it for you?”

“I didn’t get the chance to ask him, sir,”

“And why not? The indomitable Professor too busy to help you?”

“No, sir,” Harry said, gritting his teeth.

“Not willing to help his favorite student?” 

Harry’s temper was starting to rear its ugly head. He had just been through this with Lupin and really didn’t want to have it out with Snape as well. 

“Too busy with certain other activities?”

“No, sir and No, sir,” replied Harry. 

“Do not get smart with me, Potter? I am only asking you a question. I mean you are getting extra lessons from Professor Lupin are you not? Are you as abysmal in Defense as you are in Potions?”

“No, sir,” said Harry. “I’m getting help with something else.”

“And what exactly could Professor Lupin help you with? The man is not an expert in much, surely you didn’t go to him with my classes’ homework?”

“No, Sir, I went to him about the dementors.”

“Scared you’ll fall off your broom Potter?” said Professor Snape nastily. 

Harry snapped. 

“No, sir, I merely don’t wish to hear my mother’s screams anymore.”

Snape froze. Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting that. 

Harry stood there for a long moment, waiting for another one of Snape’s cutting remarks. 

Only Snape now had nothing to say, instead he spoke in a quiet voice, “What did you say?”

Flint was standing in the corner of the room mouth gaping, eyes still darting between Snape and the Firebolt, looking for all the world like he might try to make a grab for it and run. And Harry figured that he might as well go   
all in.

“I went to Professor Lupin for help with the dementors because every time they get near me I can hear them, my mother pleading with Voldemort to save me, my father telling her to run, and Voldemort telling that “Stupid girl” to get out the way and let him have m….”

“Leave,” said Professor Snape. 

“What?” asked Harry. 

“Leave,” repeated Snape. “Mr. Flint,” Snape called to Flint who was standing near the other side of the room. “Please escort Mr. Potter back to his dormitory immediately.” 

“But sir,” said Marcus. “What about the Firebolt?”

“I will take a look at it,” said Snape. 

Harry thought he heard Flint utter, “That’s what I’m afraid of.” But what he clearly heard was a dejected Flint telling Snape that he would do as he asked. 

“Yes, sir,” said Flint, motioning for Harry to follow him as Snape turned his back on his students and walked back to his desk. 

Harry huffed and followed Flint back to the dormitory obediently, wondering if they might stop into Professor McGonagall’s office or Flitwick’s so that he could complete his rounds of turning every teacher in the school against him. 

Harry got out of the shower, and remembered that he left his Charms book in the common room. Heading out to get it, he stopped when he heard two voices outside. 

“You’re insane,” said Adrian Pucey. “Come on, Marc, you don’t really think you’re going to be able to do this.”

“And now you sound like my father,” said Flint, his tone waving off Pucey’s concerns. 

“Well, he did ask me to try to talk to you.”

“And you have, so now you can tell him that you officially fulfilled your duty in kissing his arse.”

Harry peeked out into the common room. Flint was dressed for a flight, his broom in hand as he walked to the door. 

“Marcus, wait, come on you have to give me more than that.”

“Fine,” said Flint stopping. “You can tell my father that I would rather do anything, and I mean anything else than to take his spot at the Ministry. I don’t want to be locked away all day in some office, I want to be up there. You   
can tell him that I’m seventeen, and that I don’t want to be head of the family, that I don’t want a wife, and that after being a prefect that the idea of children makes me feel downright ill.”

Pucey laughed despite himself. 

“They are a bunch of snotty nosed brats.”

“Yeah,” said Flint. “Snotty nosed brats with magic and that’s worse.”

The two friends stood together, Pucey in front of the common room entrance. 

Then, with a resigned look, he moved out of the way, clasping Flint on the shoulder as he passed. 

Flint nodded at him, before exiting. 

Harry waited for Pucey to go back to bed before getting his book, vowing that he would give Flint his all in practice from here on out.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and commenting. I hope you like this next bit. We're getting close to the end. As always I don't own Harry nor Potter, but please follow me on Tumblr @ thinkmyhappythoughts or on Twitter @ Mitchel_chelsea if you want to talk. And Jo, if you're reading this, call me. I have an idea.

Harry was drenched in sweat. Flint had put them through the gauntlet at practice, and Harry was feeling the “weakness leave his body” with every step he took. The locker rooms under the stands weren’t house oriented but Hogwarts oriented. The badger, snake, lion, and eagle emblems were emblazoned on the locker room doors and all over the locker room walls. Harry stared at one as he stepped into the shower. The marble emblem blinked back at him as he stepped under the spray. The showers were toward the back of the locker room, before that was the changing/pep talk area. The girl’s area was to the left of the doors which had their own changing and shower areas. One of the locker rooms were under the Ravenclaw stands, and the other was under the stands right beside of it, so it made for a more dramatic entrance when they stepped onto the field, Harry thought. 

Though it was also the place a lot of fights happened between players. Though, so far, Harry had missed those this year. Flint had been so caught up in practice and scouts that he had no time for feuds. He was even going out   
for evening flies. Harry would see him come back nearly every evening with his Quidditch kit soaked in sweat but a weary and determined look on his face. Some nights he even looked downright giddy. 

Recently, he even came back smiling, clearly pleased with his efforts, and Harry had rarely ever seen Flint smile. It was weird.   
Harry rinsed the grime from his body, one of the last as Montague said goodnight. Normally, Harry would just shower back at the castle, but with the chill in the air he was worried that the thick layer of sweat he was sporting would freeze to his skin. The thought making him sick. 

Besides, Malfoy had all ready come and gone so Harry could at least take his time. He was looking forward to climbing into bed, and quickly falling asleep when he heard someone come back to grab something. Harry dismissed it, until the lights flickered and a strong breeze blew Harry’s wet fringe. Harry grabbed a towel and tossed it around his waist. He grabbed his wand just as the lights flickered out. 

“I know it’s you Malfoy,” he called into the locker room. “Fool me once,” he said though he doubted the pureblood wizard would have ever heard such a phrase. Though surely at the Malfoy residence they had a saying about not playing in snake dens. 

Harry flicked the doors open with his wand, but was met with utter darkness. He could just make out the shapes of the seats and lockers, but he didn’t see Malfoy or anyone else. And the room was getting colder. 

A sound like a fan blowing the other way filled the room, and Harry saw the figure of a large dog cross just outside the doors of the locker room. Harry rushed forward, wand drawn. He pushed the door open, and ran headlong into a dementor. Harry backed up and with all his might cast Expecto Patronum. 

A large figure bounded from his wand, and ran at the dementor. Then the dementor…squealed….

He approached cautiously, moving steadily toward the rumpled heap that was Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. Malfoy’s blonde hair barely stuck out from the cloak as he screamed and kicked against the fabric of the enlarged cloak they had been under. 

Harry never wished for Colin Creevey’s presence more than he did right then. Sweeping the thoughts of the black dog away, Harry left Malfoy for Crabbe and Goyle to handle, and went to get dressed. 

&&&

It looked like the end of Ron and Hermione’s friendship. 

“Ah,” said Millicent in mock disappointment. “Well, there goes that entertainment.” 

Scabbers had been presumed dead and Ron and Hermione were doing nothing but glaring daggers at one another. Millicent found it absolutely hilarious while Harry was just trying to make it through his days. 

After the excitement from the Gryffindor/Ravenclaw game when Snape burst into the room. “Everyone to the Great Hall immediately.”

No one slept that night, and everywhere they went security was tighter than ever. Ron had become an instant celebrity due to his near death experience. 

“Why though?” Ron asked Harry after the latest adoring crowd had dispersed. 

“Why did he just run like that?” 

Harry had been wondering the same thing. It made sense as to why Black had automatically went to the tower in search of Harry, but why had he left witnesses? 

Neville was in total disgrace. Professor McGonagall was so furious she banned him from all future Hogsmeade visits, gave him a detention, and forbade anyone give Neville the password, causing Neville to wait outside   
Gryffindor Tower until someone came along and let him in. Harry only caught the end of Neville’s howler despite his valiant effort to make it out of the hall, but he still felt sorry for the guy. 

Harry got a letter at lunch. It was from Hagrid. 

Dear Harry, 

How about you and Ron having tea with me this afternoon ‘round six? I’ll come over to collect you from the castle, WAIT FOR ME IN THE ENTRANCE HALL! YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED OUT ON YOUR OWN! 

Cheers, Hagrid. 

“He probably wants to hear all about Black,” said Ron, when Harry told him about the invitation. A little after six and they were in Hagrid’s hut. “Buckbeak’s case against the Committee for the Disposal o’ Dangerous Creatures,”   
said Hagrid. “This Friday, him an’ me’ll be goin’ down ter London together. I’ve booked two beds on the Knight Bus….”

That explained the flurry of dead ferrets in Buckbeaks pen. Harry felt a nasty pang of guilt. He had completely forgotten about Buckbeak’s trial and judging by the uneasy look on Ron’s face, he had too. 

“I got somethin’ ter discuss with you two,” said Hagrid, sitting himself between them and looking uncharacteristically serious. 

“What?” asked Ron. 

“Hermione,” said Hagrid. “She’s in a right state, that’s what. She’s bin comin’ down ter visit me a lot since Chris’mas. Bin feelin’ lonely. It not her fault her cat….”

“Ate Scabbers!” Ron interjected angrily. 

“Because her cat acted like all cats do. She’s cried a fair few times you know and she’s still found time to help with Buckbeak’s case. She’s given us a chance.”

“Hagrid,” Harry began. “We should have been here to help too.”

“I’m not blamin’ yeh,” said Hagrid, waving Harry’s apology aside. “I just though’ you two valued friendship more’n that.” 

Harry and Ron exchanged uncomfortable looks. “Really upset she was, when Black nearly stabbed yeh, Ron. She’s got her heart in the right place.”

Harry blocked out the rest of their discussion, but tried to take it to heart. 

 

 

“They say it’s one of the most haunted places in England,” said Ron. “Even the Hogwart’s ghosts avoid it.” 

Harry nodded underneath his invisibility clock. He may have been able to escape a nosing Snape, but he hadn’t been able to get out of Ron’s tour of Hogsmeade. Not that he minded, Ron was quite the tour guide. 

Their run in with Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had been the icing on the cake. Harry wondered if it was possible for hair to break off. If so, he hoped that those snowballs he threw at Malfoy’s head did the trick. Just as Harry   
was thinking of all the possibilities and was stepping back out into the corridor at school he heard some footsteps. 

It was Snape.

He approached Harry at a swift walk, his black robes swishing, then stopped in front of him. 

“Come with me, Potter,” said Snape. 

There was a look of suppressed triumph about him, ignorant of Harry’s more innocent expression. Harry followed him to his office. Harry had been there a few times before and didn’t feel any better about it now. 

“Sit,” said Snape. Harry sat while Snape remained standing. 

“Mr. Malfoy has come to me with an extraordinary apparition near the Shrieking Shack. Can you imagine what it might have been, Potter?”

“No,” said Harry, now trying to sound innocently curious. 

“It was your head, Potter, floating in mid-air.” 

Well, thought Harry, maybe he hadn’t been so slick after all. There was a long silence. 

“Maybe he should go see Madam Pomfrey,” said Harry. “If he’s seeing things like that.”

Snape seemed to lose his patience. 

Harry decided to try again. 

“Maybe Malfoy’s hallucinating.” 

“Mr. Malfoy is not hallucinating,” snarled Snape. “Everyone from the Minister of Magic down is trying to keep the famous Harry Potter safe from Sirius Black but famous Harry Potter is a law unto himself. Let the ordinary people   
worry about his safety! Famous Harry Potter goes where he wants to with no thought for the consequences.” Snape seemed genuinely angry so Harry stayed silent. 

“How extraordinarily like your father you are, Potter,” Snape said suddenly. 

“He too was exceedingly arrogant. A small amount of talent on the Quidditch pitch made him think he was a cut above the rest of us too. Strutting around the place with his friends and admirers…..The resemblance between   
you is uncanny.” 

“My dad did not strut,” said Harry. “And neither do I, sir.”

“Your father didn’t set much store by the rules either,” Snape went on, his thin face full of malice. “Rules were for lesser mortals, not Quidditch cup winners.”

“Bitter, are you Professor?” 

“What did you say to me?” bellowed Snape. 

“I asked if you were bitter, Professor,” said Harry calmly. “Do you hate the man that saved your life?”

Snape balked at him. 

“Professor Dumbledore told me all about it.”

Snape’s skin had gone the color of sour milk.

“And did the headmaster tell you the circumstances in which your father saved my life?” he whispered. “Or did he consider the details too unpleasant for precious Potter’s delicate ears? I will not have you run away with a false   
idea of your father, Potter. Have you been imagining some act of glorious heroism? Then let me correct you, your saintly father and his friends played a highly amusing joke on me that would have resulted in my death if your   
father hadn’t got cold feet at the last moment. There was nothing brave about what he did. He was saving his own skin as much as mine. Had their joke succeeded, he would have been expelled from Hogwarts, and likely sent to Azkaban, and you would never have been born.”

Snape’s uneven, yellow teeth were bared. 

“Turn out your pockets, Potter,” he spat suddenly. 

Harry didn’t move. There was a pounding in his ears. 

“Turn out your pockets, or we go straight to the headmaster! Pull them out, Potter!” 

Filled with dread, Harry slowly pulled out the bag of Zonko’s products and the Marauder’s Map. 

“Ron gave them to me,” said Harry, praying he’d get a chance to tip Ron off before Snape saw him. “He brought them back from Hogsmeade last time….”

“Indeed? And you’ve been carrying them around ever since? How very touching….now what is that?”

Snape had picked up the map. Harry tried to keep his face impassive.

“Spare bit of parchment,” he said with a shrug.

Snape turned it over, his eyes on Harry. 

“Surely you aren’t so involved with your studies that you need to carry parchment with you wherever you go and surely not such an old piece of parchment?”

Harry blinked, watching the map closely. 

Snape glared, and held it out on the table. He pointed his wand at it, “Reveal your secret!”

Nothing happened. Harry clenched his hands to stop them from shaking. 

“Show yourself!” Snape said, tapping the map sharply. 

It stayed blank. Harry was taking deep, calming breaths. 

“Professor Severus Snape, master of this school, commands you to yield the information you conceal!”

Then as if an invisible hand were writing upon it, words appeared on the smooth surface of the map.

“Mr. Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people’s business.”

Snape froze. Harry stared dumbstruck at the message. But the map didn’t stop there. More writing was appearing beneath the first. 

“Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Moony, and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git.”

It would have been funny if it were anyone other than his formidable head of house. Then, there was more. 

“Mr. Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a professor.”

Harry closed his eyes in horror. When he’d opened them the map had had its last word. 

“Mr. Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball.”

Harry waited for the blow to fall. 

“So….” Said Snape softly. “We’ll see about this….”

He strode across to his fire, seized a fistful of glittering powder from a jar on the fireplace, and threw it into the flames. 

“Lupin!” Snape called into the fire. “I want a word!”

Utterly bewildered, Harry stared at the fire. A large shape had appeared in it, revolving very fast. Seconds later, Professor Lupin was clambering out of the fireplace, brushing ash off his shabby robes. 

“You called, Severus?” said Lupin mildly. 

“I certainly did,” said Snape, his face contorted with fury as he strode back to his desk. “I have just asked Potter to empty his pockets. He was carrying this.”

Snape pointed at the parchment, on which the words of Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs were still shining. An odd, closed expression appeared on Lupin’s face. 

“Well?” said Snape. 

Lupin continued to stare at the map. Harry had the impression that Lupin was doing some very quick thinking. 

“Well?” said Snape again. “this parchment is plainly full of Dark Magic. This is supposed to be your area of expertise, Lupin. Where do you imagine Potter got such a thing?”

“Full of Dark Magic?” he repeated mildly. “Do you really think so, Severus? It looks to me as though it is merely a piece of parchment that insults anyone who reads it. Childish, but surely not dangerous? I imagine Harry   
got it from a joke shop…..”

“Indeed?” said Snape. His jaw had gone rigid with anger. “You think a joke shop could supply him with such a thing? You don’t think it more likely that he got it directly from the manufacturers?” 

Harry didn’t understand what Snape was talking about. Not, apparently, did Lupin. 

“You mean, by Mr. Wormtail or one of these people?” he said. “Harry do you know any of these men?”

“No,” said Harry quickly. 

“You see, Severus?” said Lupin, turning back to Snape. “It looks like a Zonko product to me….”

Right on cue, Ron came bursting into the office. He was complexly out of breath, and stopped just short of Snape’s desk clutching the stitch in his chest and trying to speak. 

“I…..gave….Harry….that….stuff,” he choked, gasping for air. 

“Well!” said Lupin, clapping his hands together and looking around cheerfully. “That seems to clear that up! Severus, I’ll take this back, shall I?” He folded the map and tucked it inside his robes. “Harry, Ron, come with me, I   
need a word about my vampire essay, excuse us, Severus.”

Harry didn’t dare look back at his head of house as he left the room with Lupin and Ron. 

“Professor, I….”

“I don’t want to hear explanations,” said Lupin shortly. He glanced around the empty entrance hall and lowered his voice. “I happen to know that this map was confiscated by Mr. Filch many years ago. Yes, I know it’s a   
map,” he said as Harry and Ron looked amazed. “I don’t want to know how it fell into your possession. I am, however, astounded that you didn’t hand it in. Particularly after what happened the last time a student left   
information about the castle lying around. And I can’t let you have it back, Harry.”

Harry had expected that, and was too keen for explanations to protest. 

“Why did Professor Snape think I got it from the manufacturers?”

“Because….” Lupin hesitated. “because these mapmakers would have wanted to lure you out of school. They’d think it extremely entertaining.”

“Do you know them?” said Harry, impressed. 

“We’ve met,” he said shortly. He was looking at Harry more seriously than ever.

“Don’t expect me to cover up for you again, Harry. I cannot make you take Sirius Black seriously. But I would have thought that what you have heard when the dementors draw near would have had more of an effect on   
you. Your parents gave their lives to keep you alive, Harry. A poor way to repay them, gambling their sacrifice for a bag of magic tricks.”

He walked away, leaving Harry feeling worse by far than he had at any point in Snape’s office. Slowly, he and Ron mounted the marble staircase. As Harry passed the one-eyed witch, he remembered the Invisibility   
Cloak…..it was still down there, but he didn’t dare go and get it.

Harry went back to the dungeons, and knew that someway he had to make it up to Professor Lupin. He just didn’t know how. He was almost there, when he ran into a shaking Hermione. 

Hagrid had lost his case. And Buckbeak was going to be executed. 

&&&

 

Easter came, and things were up and down. Hagrid was filing an appeal, exams were coming up, and Slytherin would be going up against Gryffindor for the house cup. The day of the game Flint was in monosyllabic mode, even Malfoy seemed to be on edge. The boy had miraculously gotten better for practice and to play in a few games, but this would be the real test of the new Chaser. 

Flint led them to the locker rooms for what Harry was sure would be one heck of a motivational speech. 

“Sit,” he said and they all took a spot on the bench. 

“Scouts,” said Marcus, and Harry wondered if his brain was short circuiting or if all his brain activity was just focused elsewhere at the moment. 

“Yes, Marcus,” said Adrian Pucey, moving to stand beside his friend and Captain. 

“We know that there are scouts in the audience, and we will get out there and crush those Gryffindors into the ground!” Pucey roared. 

“Yeah,” said Malfoy, “it’ll be easy.”

Flint shook his head. Then seemed to remember that he had a voice. 

“Wood has a great team, and Wood is a great player, and Wood, they are watching him also. Wood.” Or maybe not, Harry thought. 

Pucey looked like, at least he, had cottoned onto what their Captain was trying to convey. 

“Exactly, Mr. Flint, cannot and will not underestimate the Gyrffindors. They are a tough team, and Wood is a dedicated player who, though he would never admit it, would do darn near anything to win. The scouts are also here   
for him, and you never know, they might be watching a few of you others, so if you care anything about the fame and fortune of being a professional Quidditch star then you won’t play like you have your head shoved up your   
own arse.”

Harry nodded, along with the rest of the team. 

“Okay, team,” Pucey clapped his hands. “Let’s do this.”

As Harry was filing out the door, Flint stopped him and thrust something into his arms. It was his Firebolt. 

“What?” he asked. 

“Snape,” said Flint. 

“The man does like to win,” said Adrian Pucey. 

Harry merely nodded. He could do this. 

Harry could hear the boos from his housemates as the Gryffindor team walked out onto the field, and smiled a little as they told the commentator what they thought of his comments. Flint and Wood walked to the center   
of the field with Madam Hooch for a few last minute rules. 

Flint reached over and shook Wood’s hand, leaning into whisper something to the boy before pulling back. The look on Wood’s face was covered in shock, but he quickly wiped it away when Madam Hooch blew her first   
whistle. 

Then, they were off. 

It was a dirty game and Harry was glad that he wasn’t directly apart of it as he and Seamus circled the field looking for the snitch. 

When Bell scored for Gryffindor and Fred and George flew around her, Bole and Derrick took it upon themselves to take a shot at Wood. They caught him in the stomach, one after the other, and Wood rolled over in the   
air, clutching his broom, completely winded. And Flint looked livid. 

As Madam Hooch reprimanded the two boys, Flint was waiting patiently for his turn. Gryffindor would get a free shot for that, but Harry didn’t think that was all Flint had been upset about. 

Johnson on the Gryffindor team had just scored a goal and the everyone in the arena were going nuts. And then Harry saw something that made his heart stand still. The snitch. Harry moved for it. The score was pretty   
even, whoever got the snitch would be the determining factor. Flint had been playing the game of his life. Even Madam Hooch seemed impressed. Harry thought he kept seeing Flint watch for the scouts in the stands, but he   
wasn’t sure how he could see anything as fast as the game was going. 

The Firebolt was a dream, turning brilliantly and going faster than Harry has ever flown before. That’s how he knew he was going to get it. Harry flew straight toward the Snitch, but with Seamus right on his heels, the other boy caught sight of it when Harry did. Then it was just a race. Harry zoomed at the little golden ball not caring who or what was in his way, when he caught sight of Flint staring not into the crowd like Harry had assumed but at a stunned looking Oliver Wood who looked as if his whole world was crashing down around him as Harry was leading Seamus to the snitch. There was no way that Seamus would get it before him and Wood looked like he knew that. Then Flint’s face, too, fell. 

And like that Flint was flying up, a bludger coming at him, but instead of simply out maneuvering it, he flew it straight into Harry’s path. Harry was forced to swerve, allowing Seamus to get slightly ahead of him, and before he could correct himself Seamus had caught the Snitch, and the match was over. Gryffindor had won. 

Wave upon wave of crimson supporters ran onto the field. Professor McGonagall was sobbing, Wood was sobbing even harder than her, and as Marcus Flint looked resignedly at Oliver Wood’s ridiculously happy face, Harry thought there wasn’t any grief or anger in that look at all.


	9. Chapter 9: Final Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Since I didn't update last week like I usually do, here is the finale of Slytherin!Harry and the Prisoner of Azkaban. I am working on Goblet of Fire right now, and hope to be done soonish, but don't take my word for it. I hope you like this chapter because I sure do. I love you, thanks for all the comments and kudos I love to know that you all are reading this beast. 
> 
> And Jo, if you're reading this, call me. I have an idea.  
> Tweet Me @Mitchel_chelsea  
> Tumblr: Thinkmyhappythoughts.tumblr

“How was it?” Harry asked Millicent as she came out of her Divination final. 

“Ridiculous, that woman is a fraud.”

“Was it that bad?” asked Harry. 

“No, Potter, I simply made up about twelve different ways that you were going to meet your untimely end and she seemed quite pleased with me.”

Harry huffed, then, “We should have coordinated. Then she really would have passed me.”

Millicent laughed then left Harry to make up his own doom. 

After Harry refused to plot Buckbeak’s downfall, he rose to leave Professor Trewlaney to assign his dismal grade. 

“Well, dear, I think we’ll leave it there….A little disappointing…but I’m sure you did your best.”

Relieved it was over, Harry got up, picked up his bag and turned to go, but then a loud, harsh voice spoke behind him. 

“IT WILL HAPPEN TONIGHT.”

Harry wheeled around. Professor Trewlaney had gone rigid in her armchair; her eyes were unfocused and her mouth sagging. 

“S-sorry?” said Harry. 

But Professor Trewlaney didn’t seem to hear him. Her eyes started to roll. Harry stood there in a panic. She looked as though she were about to have some sort of a seizure before she spoke again. 

“THE DARK LORD LIES ALONE AND FRIENDLESS, ABANDONED BY HIS FOLLOWERS. HIS SERVANT HAS BEEN CHAINED THESE TWELVE YEARS. TONIGHT, BEFORE MIDNIGHT….THE SERVANT WILL BREAK FREE AND SET OUT TO REJOIN HIS MASTER. THE DARK LORD WILL RISE AGAIN WITH HIS SERVANT’S AID, GREATER AND MORE TERRIBLE THAN EVER BEFORE. TONIGHT….BEFORE MIDNIGHT….THE SERVANT…WILL SET OUT….TO REJOIN….HIS MASTER…..”

Professor Trewlaney’s head feel forward onto her chest. She made a grunting sort of noise. Then, quite suddenly, her head snapped up again. 

“I’m so sorry, dear boy,” she said dreamily. “the heat of the day, you know….I drifted off for a moment.”

Harry stood there, still staring. 

Had Professor Trewlaney just made a real prediction?

He had to tell someone. He was almost to the dungeons when he ran into Hermione, she seemed to be waiting for him. 

“Buckbeal lost,” said Ron weakly. “Hagrid’s just sent his.”

Harry read the letter, and knew that they had to go right then. Harry ran in to the common room and got Millicent before heading to Hagrid’s. 

“Wait, we need my….”

“This?” asked Hermione, holding the shiny fabric of his invisibility cloak in the air. 

“Yeah,” said Harry. “How did you?”

“I told Granger here where you left it, and she just bounded off to get it, just like that.”

“Really quite impressive,” said Ron, and Harry thought Hermione looked quite flattered. 

Lucius Malfoy seemed to have his hand in everything, and as Ron spotted Malfoy senior, Buckbeak’s executioner and Cornelius Fudge coming down the hill toward Hagrid’s hut, they knew they had to go. They had tried to calm  
Hagrid, tried to tell him that they would tell the truth about what happened to Draco, but Hagrid didn’t want them risking themselves. 

Silent tears were now streaming down Hermione’s face, Millicent even looked sorry for the animal. Then, strangely, as Hermione went to start serving tea, she picked up the milk bottle to pour some into the jug, she let  
out a loud shriek. 

“Ron! I….I don’t believe it….it’s Scabbers.”

Ron gaped at her. 

“What are you talking about?”

But there it was, cowering frantically in Hagrid’s hut was Ron’s presumed dead rat, Scabbers. 

Ron grabbed the struggling rat and held him up to the light. Scabbers looked dreadful. He was thinner than ever, large tufts of hair had fallen out, leaving wide bald patches, and he writhed in Ron’s hands as thought  
desperate to free himself. 

The four of them left Hagrid’s hut just in time, hiding themselves near Hagrid’s garden so the group of adults wouldn’t see them. 

They tried to remain quiet, but Scabbers wasn’t having any of it. “I can’t hold him….Scabbers, shut up, everyone’ll hear us….” 

The rat was squealing wildly, but not loudly enough to cover up the sounds drifting from Hagrid’s garden. There was a jumble of indistinct male voices, a silence, and then, without warning, the unmistakable swish and  
thud of an axe. 

Hermione swayed on the spot. 

“They did it!” she whispered to Harry. “I d-don’t believe it….they did it.”

Millicent looked sick. Ron was paler than normal. And Buckbeak was dead. 

&&&

Harry’s mind had gone blank with shock. The four of them stood transfixed with horror under Harry’s cloak. The very last rays of sun were setting casting a bloody light on the long-shadowed grounds. Then, behind  
them, they heard a wild howling. 

“Hagrid,” said Harry. He wanted to go to him, but Ron stopped him. “He’ll be in even more trouble if they know we’ve been to see him.”

Hermione’s breathing was shallow and uneven. 

“How…could….they?” she choked. “How could they?”

They set off toward the castle, but Scabbers was still wiggling wildly in Ron’s arms. 

“What’s the matter with you, you stupid rat? Stay still…OUCH! He bit me!”

Hermione hushed for Ron to be quiet, but Scabbers just wouldn’t stay put. Then Harry saw something slinking toward them in the darkness. Crookshanks.

Just like that, the rat slipped between Ron’s clutching fingers, hit the ground, and scampered away. In one bound, Crookshanks sprang after him, and before Harry and Hermione could stop him, Ron had thrown the  
Invisibility Cloak off himself and pelted away after them into the darkness. 

“Weasley! You idiot!” shouted Millicent. 

There was a loud thud as Ron landed and caught the fighting animals. 

The three chasers nearly fell over the menagerie as they skid to a stop right in front of them. 

Hermione looked like she was about to have a coronary. 

“Ron…come back…get under the cloak…Dumbledore and….the Minister.”

But before they could cover themselves again, before they could even catch their breath, they heard the soft pounding of gigantic paws…Something was bounding toward them out of the dark….something enormous. It  
was a pale-eyed, jet-black dog.

Harry reached for his wand, but it was too late, the dog had made an enormous leap and the front paws hit him on the chest; he keeled over backward in a whirl of hair; he felt its hot breath, saw inch-long teeth….

But the force of its leap had carried it too far; it rolled off him. Dazed, feeling as though his ribs were broken, Harry tried to stand up; he could hear it growling as it skidded around for a new attack. Scabbers had gotten  
loose in the struggling. Ron traced it to the base of the Womping Willow. 

Then the dog had Ron. 

The dog was dragging Ron backward into a large gap in the roots, Ron was fighting furiously, but his head and torso were slipping out of sight.

“Ron!” Harry shouted, trying to follow, but a heavy branch whipped lethally through the air and he was forced backward again. 

The group made a run for it, as Ron disappeared into the hole at the base of the tree. They barely missed the lethal branches as they scurried in after them and landed in a tunnel. Harry recognized it as one he had seen on the Marauder’s Map, but without it, he wasn’t sure where it led. 

The group walked for a while as Crookshanks seemed to lead them down the path. The path stopped, but light was coming through an opening. The tunnel opened up into a small room. 

“Harry,” said Millicent. “I think we’re in the Shrieking Shack.”

Quietly as they could they stepped out into what looked like a hall and up a crumbling staircase. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust except the floor, where a wide shiny stripe had been made by something being  
dragged upstairs. 

They reached the dark landing. 

“Nox,” the group whispered, shutting the light off of their wands. Only one door was open. As they crept closer they heard movement behind the door. 

Wand head tightly before him, Harry kicked the door wide open. On a magnificent four-poster bed with dusty hangings lay Crookshanks, purring loudly at the sight of them. On the floor beside him, clutching his leg,  
which stuck out at a strange angle, was Ron. 

Harry and Hermione ran toward him. 

“Ron, are you okay?”

“Where’s the dog?” I asked. 

“Not a dog,” Ron moaned. His teeth were gritted with pain. “Harry, it’s a trap….”

“What?”

“He’s the dog….he’s an Animagus.”

Ron was staring over Harry’s shoulder. Harry wheeled around. With a snap, the man in the shadows closed the door behind them. A mass of filthy, matted hair hung to his elbows. If his eyes hadn’t been shining out of the  
deep, dark sockets, he might have been a corpse. The waxy skin was stretched so tightly over the bones of his face, it looked like a skull. His yellow teeth were bared in a grin. It was Sirius Black. 

“Expelliarmus!” he croaked, pointing Ron’s wand at them. 

Their wands shot out of their hands, and Black caught them. His eyes were fixed on Harry. 

“I thought you’d come and help your friend,” he said hoarsely. “Very brave of you, your father would have done the same for me.”

The taunt about his father rang in Harry’s ears. He had heard it from Snape, but Snape hadn’t murdered his parents. Snape wasn’t the reason that he had to live with the Dursleys. Snape wasn’t the reason that Harry had  
never had a real family, but this man was. 

Ron struggled to stand. His leg looking shattered and weak as it fought to support him. “You can’t have Harry!” he shouted. “You’ll have to go through all of us first.”

Then, Harry lunged at Black and the two fell to the ground in a heap. No one bothered to use magic, the only thing that had any importance at all was getting his hands around Black’s neck. 

Crookshanks sunk her claws into Harry’s arm, and he swung her off. Millicent kicked Black in the face, and he finally let go of Harry, allowing him to get his wand and the others away from Black. Black was sprawled at the  
bottom of the wall. His thin chest rose and fell rapidly as he watched Harry walking slowly nearer, his wand pointing straight at Black’s heart.

“Going to kill me, Harry?” he whispered. 

Harry stopped right above him. 

“You killed my parents,” said Harry, his voice was shaking slightly, but his wand hand was quite steady. 

Black stared up at him out of those sunken eyes. This was it. He was going to do it. He was going to avenge his mother and father. He was going to kill Black. He had to kill Black. This was his chance…..then Hermione  
was shouting. 

“WERE UP HERE! WE’RE UP HERE! SIRIUS BLACK….QUICK!” And Professor Lupin was walking into the room. 

“Expelliarmus!” Lupin shouted, but not at Black. 

Harry’s wand flew once more out of his hand; so did the two Millicent was holding. She lunged at Lupin, but her robes caught on the floor and she hit the ground. The crack Harry heard reminded him of Ron’s broken leg. And all  
he could think was how they were going to get out of there. Harry looked toward Millicent. She looked dazed and she was holding her ankle, but she nodded at him that she was okay.

Then Lupin said in an odd voice, a voice that shook with some suppressed emotion. 

“Where is he, Sirius?” 

Harry tried to ask Lupin what was going on but it seemed as if Lupin was figuring out a lot of things all on his own. Then Lupin leaned over and helped Black get to his feet, and embraced him like a brother? No, like  
someone he thought he had lost, but had suddenly found again. 

“He’s here, Remus, Peter’s here.”

“You’re both mental,” said Ron. 

“Peter Pettigrew is dead,” said Harry. “He killed him twelve years ago.” He pointed at Black whose face twisted convulsively. 

“I meant to,” the man growled, his yellow teeth bared like an angry dog. “, but little Peter got the better of me, not this time though.”

And Crookshanks was thrown to the ground as Black lunged after Scabbers, Ron yelled with pain as Black’s weight fell on his broken leg. 

“Sirius, No!” Lupin yelled, launching himself forwards and dragging Black away from Ron again. 

“WAIT! You can’t do it just like that…they need to understand…we’ve got to explain, at least to Harry. He needs to know.” 

“We can explain afterwards,” snarled Black, trying to throw Lupin off. Scabbers was squealing like a piglet, scratching Ron’s face and neck as he tried to escape Black’s reaching hand. 

“No,” wailed Lupin. “You owe Harry, Sirius, you owe him.”

Black stopped struggling though his hollowed eyes stayed fixed on Scabbers, who was clamped tightly in Ron’s scratched hands. 

“All right, then,” Black said. “Tell them whatever you like. But make it quick, Rem, I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for…”

“You’re both insane,” asserted Ron. Ron moved to stand, but Lupin raised his wand again, pointing it at Scabbers. 

“Excuse me, but you are both going to hear me out. Ron, just please keep a tight hold of Peter while you listen.”

“HE’S NOT PETER. HE’S SCABBERS!” Ron yelled. 

Ignoring him, Harry focused on Lupin. 

“There were witnesses who saw Pettigrew die,” he said. “A whole street of them…”

“They didn’t see what they thought they saw!” Said Black, staring holes into a struggling Scabbers. 

“No, everyone only thought Sirius killed Peter. I believed it myself,” said Lupin, sounding regretful. “Until I saw his name on the map. Peter’s alive Harry…the map never lies. Ron’s holding him Harry.”

Could it be, Harry thought. 

“Of course not,” said Millicent. “It isn’t true. If Pettigrew was an Animagus he would have been registered with the ministry. That’s a highly advanced skill, only seven people have managed it in the last century.”

Harry looked at her incredulously. “What Potter? My family makes it their business to know powerful witches and wizards, and being an Animagus falls into that category.” 

Lupin looked at Sirius. 

“I’ve waited twelve years Remus,” he said in a quiet but deadly voice. “I’m not going to wait much longer.” 

Professor Lupin nodded.

“I DON’T BELIEVE IT!” Hermione screamed. 

Lupin reluctantly looked to Hermione, Black kept on looking at Lupin. Hermione had raised herself off the floor and was pointing at Lupin, wide-eyed. “You….You….”

“I covered for you!” she screamed at him. 

“What?” Harry asked. 

“He’s a werewolf,” said Hermione. “The sickliness, that time Snape took over his classes, the essay…”

“Yes,” Lupin said, looking at Harry, not even trying to deny it. Lupin made a move to step toward Ron, but stiffened when he saw how Ron flinched from him. “I am what she says I am. I am a werewolf. I got the bite when I  
was just a child. My parents tried everything, but in those days there was no cure. The potion that Professor Snape has been making for me is a very recent discovery. As long as I take it the week preceding the full moon, I keep  
my mind when I transform. A harmless werewolf. However, back then there was nothing to control me. But then Dumbledore became headmaster and he was sympathetic. He said if we take precautions that there was no reason why I couldn’t come to school. 

The Womping Willow was planted for me, this house and the tunnel that leads here were built for my use. My once a month transformations were….” 

They were terrible. I was separated from humans so I bit and scratched myself instead. The villagers heard the noise and the screams, but they thought they were just hearing particularly violent spirits. Dumbledore encouraged the rumors. The villagers still don’t dare to approach it.

But apart from that, I was happier than I’ve ever been. For the first time in my life, I had friends, three great friends, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, and your father Harry, James Potter. They found me out, but they didn’t desert me. Instead, they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life. They became Animagi.” 

“My dad, too?” said Harry, astounded. “Three years and two of the cleverest students in school. Your dad and students helped Peter to transform and in fifth years they could change form at will. They couldn’t keep me  
company as humans, but they could as animals.

Peter as the smallest could slip beneath the Willow’s attacking branches and touch the knot that freezes it. Then under James invisibility cloak they would sneak down the tunnel and join me. I became less dangerous, but now there were all these different possibilities. Sirius and James were large enough animals to keep the wolf in line. Together we learned mmore about the Hogwarts grounds and Hogsmeade than anyone. And that’s how the map came about. We signed it with out nicknames. Sirius is Padfoot. Peter is Wormtail. James was Prongs.”

Harry wanted to ask what his father’s animagus form was, but Lupin continued. “There were near misses that still haunt me. We were young, thoughtless, carried away by our own cleverness. It is often easy to forget the  
weight of guilt. I often wondered if I should tell Dumbledore about Sirius being an Animagus. 

In a way I guess Snape has been right about me all along.” 

“Snape?” said Black harshly, taking his eyes off Scabbers for the first time in minutes and looking up at Lupin. 

“What’s Snape got to do with it?”

“He’s here Sirius,” said Lupin heavily. “He’s teaching here as well.”

He turned back to his students. “Professor Snape was at school with us. He fought very hard against my appointment here. He has been telling Dumbledore all year that I am not to be trusted. He has his reasons….you  
see, Sirius here played a trick on him. It nearly killed him, a trick which involved me…”

Black made a derisive noise. 

“It served him right,” Black sneered. “Sneaking around, trying to find out what we were up to…hoping he could get us expelled.” 

“Severus was very interested in where I went every month. We were in the same year, you know, and we…er…didn’t like each other very much. He especially disliked James. Jealous, I think, of James’ talent on the  
Quidditch pitch… Anyway, Snape saw me one day, and Sirius thought it would be..er. amusing to tell Snape all he had to do was prod at the knot on the tree trunk with a long stick, and he’d be able to get in. He didn’t know that he would soon be face to face with a fully grown werewolf, but your father, who’d heard what Sirius had done, went after Snape and pulled him back, at great risk to his life.

But it was too late. Snape saw me at the end of the tunnel. He was forbidden by Dumbledore to tell anybody, but from that time on he knew what I was…”

“That’s why Snape doesn’t like you!” said Harry. 

“That’s right!” sneered a cold voice from the wall behind Lupin. Severus Snape was pulling off the Invisibility cloak, his wand pointing directly at Lupin. Ropes shot out of Snape’s wand and tied up Lupin and Black immediately.  
They struggled on the floor at his feet. 

“Now, let’s go up to the castle, shall we?” said Snape silkily. “But I don’t think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the dementors once we get out of the Willow. They’ll be very pleased to see you, Black….pleased enough to give you a little Kiss, I daresay. 

What color there was in Black’s face left it. 

There was a mad glint in Snape’s eye that Harry had never seen before. 

“Get out of the way, Potter, you’re in enough trouble as it is. If I hadn’t been here to save your skin.”

“Professor Lupin could have killed me about a hundred times this year,” Harry said. “I’ve been alone with him loads of times, having defense lessons against the dementors. If he was helping Black, why didn’t he just finish  
me off then?”

“Don’t ask me to fathom the way a werewolf’s mind works,” hissed Snape. “Get out of the way, Potter.”

Harry moved to do as Snape asked before raising his wand and firing, “Petrificus Totalus!” 

Snape fell to the ground with a thud, and Harry turned his wand back on Lupin and Black.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” said Black, looking at Harry. “You should have left him to me…”

Lupin was struggling against his bonds. Black bent down quickly and untied him. Lupin straightened up, rubbing his arms where the ropes had cut them. 

“Your rat, Ron,” said Lupin. “He’s missing a toe, isn’t he?”

“How do you know that?” Ron stuttered. 

“Because,” Black said, sounding so, so tired. “The only thing that they found after the explosion was one of Peter’s fingers. It was the only thing they had left to send to his mother.” 

Harry’s thoughts swirled. 

Then, Harry said, “Give them the rat, Ron.”

“Harry, are you mad? I’m not giving them Scabbers.”

“Please,” Harry said. “Please, Ron.” 

The look on Harry’s face must have convinced him because Ron nodded. 

“Ready, Sirius?” said Lupin. 

Black had already retrieved Snape’s wand from the bed. He approached Lupin and the struggling rat, and his wet eyes suddenly seemed to be burning in his face. 

“Together?” he said quietly. 

“I think so,” said Lupin, holding Scabbers tightly in one hand and his wand in the other. “On the count of three. One…Two….THREE!”

A flash of blue-white light erupted from both wands; for a moment, Scabbers was frozen in mid-air, his small gray form twisting madly, Ron yelled, the rat fell and hit the floor. There was another blinding flash of light  
and then…..

It was like watching a speeded-up film of a growing tree. A head was shooting….

 

He was a very short, balding man. The man stood, hunched over, his hands spinning like he was still a rat scurrying along the floor. His eyes darted quickly toward the door.

“Well, hello, Peter,” said Lupin pleasantly, as though rats frequently erupted into old school friends around him. “Long time, no see.”

“S-Sirius….R…Remus…” Even Pettigrew’s voice was squeaky. Again, his eyes darted toward the door. “My friends….my old friends….”

Black’s wand arm rose, but Lupin seized him around the wrist, gave him a warning look, before turning back to Pettigrew, his voice light and casual. 

“We’ve been having a little chat, Peter, about what happened the night Lily and James died. You might have missed the finer points while you were squeaking around down there on the bed….”

“Remus,” gasped Pettigrew, and Harry could see beads of sweat breaking out over his pasty face, “you don’t believe him, do you….? He tried to kill me, Remus….”

“So, we’ve heard,” said Lupin, more coldly. “I’d like to clear up one or two little matters with you, Peter, if you’d be so….”

“He’s come to try and kill me again!” Pettigrew squeaked suddenly, pointing at Black.

“I knew he’d come after me! I knew he’d be back for me! I’ve been waiting for this twelve years!”

“You knew Sirius was going to break out of Azkaban?” said Lupin, his brow furrowed. “When nobody has ever done it before?”

Pettigrew blanched. “He’s a dark wizard. Who knows what he learned when he was a spy for You-Know-Who.”

“How dare you,” Black growled, sounding suddenly like the bear sized dog he had been. “I, a spy for Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than myself? But you, Peter…I’ll never  
understand why I didn’t see you were the spy from the start. You always liked big friends who’d look after you. But perhaps I should thank you, Peter. Thinking of you was sometimes the only thing that kept me going. Knowing that you were still out there somewhere, living and breathing fresh air while I was stuck. It was easier not to feel the presence of the dementors in my Animagus form. It was bearable. It was the only way that I didn’t lose my mind. So, when I saw Peter in the Prophet.

I had seen that rat hundreds of times. I knew it was him. And I knew I had to get out. He was with Harry, and I had..I had…” 

Sirius stuttered. “I had to get out.” Then he seemed to straighten. “And now, now I can get my revenge.”

Pettigrew knelt, trembling uncontrollably, and turned his head slowly to Harry. 

“Harry….Harry…you look just like your father….just like him….”

“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO HARRY?” roared Black. “HOW DARE YOU FACE HIM? HOW DARE YOU TALK ABOUT JAMES IN FRONT OF HIM?”

“Harry,” whispered Pettigrew, shuffling toward him, hands outstretched. “Please, good boy, nice boy, please your father would have spared me.”

Sirius looked like he was going to strangle him with his bare hands. 

“Tell the truth then,” Harry said. “Confess.” 

Pettigrew shook his head, looking for all the world like he would have swallowed his own tongue that admit what had really happened. 

“You don’t understand!” whined Pettigrew. “He was so powerful. He got inside my mind. It was only a little information, and then, it was more. He..he would have killed me if I had stopped! He would have killed me, Sirius!”

“THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!” roared Black. “DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD AVE DONE FOR YOU!”

Lupin moved to stand beside Black. 

“You should have realized Peter, that if Voldemort didn’t kill you, we would. Good-bye, Peter,” said Lupin. 

“Wait!” said Harry, jumping in front of Pettigrew’s miserable form. 

“Oh, merciful boy!” the rat began to speak, but Harry didn’t want to hear it. 

“We can’t kill him. We have to take him to the castle, Professor. It’s the only way to exonerate Sirius. Then,” Harry said, looking down at Pettigrew coldly. “Then we can let the dementors have him.” 

&&&

Harry had never been a part of a stranger group. Crookshanks led the way down the stairs; Lupin had tied up Pettigrew and was leading him by a rope as Millicent leaned on him for support for her ankle. The two seemed  
to be talking intently. Hermione helped Ron behind them, wands trained on Pettigrew. Next, came Professor Snape, drifting creepily along, his toes hitting the stair as they descended, held up by his own wand, which was being  
pointed at him by Sirius. Harry brought up the rear. 

Getting back into the tunnel was difficult. Crooksanks still in the lead. Harry walked up to Sirius, who was making Snape drift along ahead of them, making Snape’s lolling head bump along the low ceiling. 

“You know what this means?” Sirius said abruptly to Harry as they made their slow progress along the tunnel. “Turning Pettigrew in?” 

“You’re free,” said Harry. 

“Yes…,” said Sirius. “But I’m also… I don’t know if anyone ever told you….but I’m your godfather.”

“Yeah, I knew that,” said Harry. 

“Well…..your parents appointed me your guardian,” said Sirius softly. “If anything happened to them….”

Harry waited. Did Sirius mean what he thought he meant?

“I’ll understand, of course, if you want to stay with your aunt and uncle,” said Sirius. “But…well…think about it. Once my name’s cleared…if you wanted a….a different home…” 

Some sort of explosion took place in the pit of Harry’s stomach. 

“What…live with you?” he said, accidentally cracking his head on a bit of rock protruding from the ceiling. “Leave the Dursleys?”

“Of course, I thought you wouldn’t want to,” said Sirius quickly. “I understand, I just thought I’d….”

“Are you insane?” said Harry, his voice easily as croaky as Sirius’. “Of course I want to leave the Dursleys! Have you got a house? When can I move in?”

Sirius turned right around to look at him; Snape’s head was scraping the ceiling but Sirius didn’t seem to care. 

“You want to?” he said. “You mean it?”

“Yeah, I mean it!” said Harry. He had never meant anything more. “Wait, what about Professor Lupin?” said Harry. “Will he be living with us too? He will right?” Harry knew that the two were good friends, and Harry was sure that  
wherever Lupin lived that it wasn’t great. Harry thought it would be nice for the two friends to be together again anyway. 

Sirius nodded, his gaunt face breaking out into the first true smile Harry had seen upon it. The difference it made was startling, as though a person ten years younger were shining through the starved mask; for a moment, he was recognizable as the man who had laughed at Harry’s parents’ wedding.

They did not speak again until they reached the end of the tunnel. Crookshanks darted up first he had evidently pressed his paw to the knot on the trunk, because Lupin, Pettigrew, and Ron clambered upward without any  
sound of savage branches. 

At last, all of them were out. 

The grounds were very dark now; the only light came from the distant windows of the castle. Without a word, they set off. Pettigrew still wheezing and occasionally whimpering. Harry’s mind was buzzing. He was going to leave the Dursleys. He was going to live with Sirius Black, his parent’s best friend…..He felt dazed…What would happen when he told the Dursleys he was going to live with the criminal they’d seen on television?

“One wrong move, Peter,” said Lupin threateningly ahead. His wand was still pointed sideways at Pettigrew’s chest. 

Silently they tramped through the grounds, the castle lights growing larger as they went. A cloud shifted and their party was bathed in moonlight. 

Sirius froze. 

Harry could see Lupin’s silhouette. He had gone rigid. Then his limbs began to shake. 

“Oh, my...,” said Sirius, then he whispered, but Harry heard him clearly, “Run. Now.”

There was a terrible snarling noise. Lupin’s head was lengthening. So was his body. His shoulders were hunching. Hair was sprouting visibly on his face and hands, which were curling into clawed paws. Crookshank’s hair was on  
end again, he was backing away…..

As the werewolf reared, snapping its long jaws, Sirius disappeared from Harry’s side. He had transformed. The enormous beastlike dog bounded forward. As the werewolf wrenched itself free of the manacle binding it,  
the dog seized it about the neck and pulled it backward away from Harry and the others. They were locked jaw to jaw, claws ripping at each other….

Harry stood, transfixed by the sight, too intent upon the battle to notice anything else. It was Millicent’s shout that alerted him….

Pettigrew had dived for Lupin’s dropped wand. There was a bang, a burst of light, and 

 

“Expelliarmus!” Harry yelled, pointing his own wand at Pettigrew; Lupin’s wand flew high into the air and out of sight. “Stay where you are!” Harry shouted, running forward. 

Too late. Pettigrew had transformed. Harry saw his bald tail whip out of his constraints, then Harry heard the rat scurrying through the tall grass. 

There was a howl and a rumbling growl; Harry turned to see the werewolf taking flight; it was galloping into the forest. 

“Sirius, he’s gone, Pettigrew transformed!” Harry yelled. 

Sirius was bleeding; there were gashes across his muzzle and back, but at Harry’s words he scrambled up again, and in an instant, the sound of his paws faded to silence as he pounded away across the grounds. 

Harry didn’t wait. He bounded off after Sirius as fast as he could. Hermione, the only one left who could, followed him. It was dark and Harry couldn’t see or hear a thing, until from beyond the range of their vision, they  
heard a yelping, a whining; a dog in pain….

“Sirius,” Harry muttered, staring into the darkness. 

Harry set off at a run, the yelping seemed to be coming from near the lake. They pelted toward it, and Harry, running flat out, felt the cold without realizing what it must mean….

The yelping sound stopped abruptly. As they reached the lakeshore they saw why…Sirius had turned back into a man. He was crouched on all fours, his hands over his head. 

“No….,” he moaned. “Nooooo…..please…..”

And then Harry saw them. 

Dementors, at least a hundred of them, gliding in a black mass around the lake toward them. He spun around, the familiar, icy cold penetrating his insides, fog starting to obscure his vision; more were appearing out of the dark  
now on every side; they were encircling them….

Hermione tried to help Sirius. 

Happy thoughts, Harry told himself. He had so much to be happy about right then. He was finally going to get a family. 

“I’m going to live with my godfather. I’m leaving the Dursleys.” 

He forced himself to think of Sirius, and only Sirius, and began to chant, “Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!”

Black gave a shudder, rolled over, and lay motionless on the ground, pale as death. 

“He’ll be all right. I’m going to go and live with him.”

“Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!” 

But he couldn’t do it. The dementors were closing in, barely ten feet from them. They formed a solid wall around Harry and were only getting closer. 

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!” Harry yelled, trying to blot the screaming from his ears. “EXPECTO PATRONUM!”

A thin wisp of silver escaped his wand and hovered like mist before him. He was alone….completely alone…

“Expecto…..Expecto Paronum….”

Harry felt his knees hit the cold grass. Fog was clouding his eyes as he fought to remember that Sirius was innocent….

“We’ll be okay….I’m going to live with him….”

He cast the charm again, but the feeble light of his formless Patronus wasn’t enough. A dead, slimy hand slid out from under a cloak. It swept his mist of his Patronus aside. 

There was a mouth…..a gaping, shapeless hole and a paralyzing fear filled Harry. The last remnants of his non Patronus flickered and died. 

White fog was blinding him. He tried to fight…..they couldn’t take him. 

But a pair of strong, clammy hands suddenly attached themselves around Harry’s neck. They were forcing his face upward. He could feel its breath….His mother was screaming in his ears….She was going to be the last thing he  
ever heard…..

And then, he felt himself fall forward onto the grass. 

Facedown, too weak to move, sick and shaking, Harry opened his eyes. The dementor must have released him. The screaming had stopped and a blinding light was illuminating the space around them.

Something was driving the dementors back…..It was circling around him. With every ounce of strength he could muster, Harry raised his head a few inches and saw an animal amid the light, galloping away across the  
lake…It was as bright as a unicorn…Fighting to stay conscious, Harry watched it canter to a halt as it reached the opposite shore. For a moment, Harry saw, by its brightness, somebody welcoming it back…raising his hand to pat it…..someone who looked strangely familiar….but it couldn’t be…..

Harry couldn’t think anymore. He felt the last of his strength leave him, and his head hit the ground as he fainted. 

 

&&&

 

Harry lay awake long enough to hear Snape explain to the Minister what he knew. 

“I bound them up, gagged Black, of course, then conjured stretchers and brought them all back to the castle.”

“I need to see the headmaster,” he said. 

“Potter,” said Madam Pomfrey soothingly, “it’s all right. They’ve got Black. He’s locked away upstairs. The dementors will be performing the Kiss any moment now….”

“WHAT?”

Harry spotted the headmaster. 

“Professor Dumbledore, Sirius Black…..”

“For heaven’s sake!” said Madam Pomfrey hysterically. “Is this a hospital wing or not? Headmaster, I must insist….”

“My apologies, Poppy, but I need a word with Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger.”

“Absolutely not,” said Madam Pomfrey, scooting him to the door as Dumbledore gave a significant look to Hermione. She nodded like he had just given her specific instructions as Madam Pomfrey and the others vanished from the  
room. 

“Here,” said Hermione, getting out of her bed. Ron and Millicent lay asleep in others across the room. She pulled her necklace off and handed it to Harry. 

“Three turns,” she said. “That should get you there.”

“Hermione, what?” asked Harry. 

“It’s a Time Turner. It’s how I’ve been getting to my classes all year, and you can use it now to get to Black.”

“But Hermione,”

“If you say he’s innocent, Harry, then he is. I’ve known you for two years, and if anyone can do this, you can.”

Harry looked at her in amazement then, “Okay. Okay, let’s do it.”

Then just as Harry was preparing to turn the dial, the doors to the infirmary opened and Pansy Parkinson burst into the room. 

“I knew I would find out what you were up to, you filthy Mudblood!” 

Parkinson rushed at Hermione, who quickly dodged her. Harry spun the dial three times, and Pansy, in assuming that she couldn’t get Hermione decided she would go for him instead. 

She grabbed him just as the world turned. Then they were gone. 

He was standing next to Pansy Parkinson in the deserted entrance hall and a stream of golden sunlight was falling across the paved floor from the open front doors. Harry grabbed Pansy’s hand while she still looked a little out of  
it, and pulled her along with him. Harry didn’t know why, but they had to get to Hagrid’s. 

“Potter, what are you doing?!” Pansy shouted as soon as they were outside. Harry clamped a hand over her mouth. She reared back to bite his fingers, but Harry moved his hand just in time. 

“Where are we?” she whispered when she realized that Harry was prepared to get bitten then to be heard by anyone. 

“We are here to save Millicent,” said Harry, knowing Pansy couldn’t care less about Ron. 

“And why should I care what happens to Bulstrode?”

“Because,” said Harry, thinking quickly. “You want Malfoy, right?”

Pansy looked at him disdainfully. 

“What do you know about it, Potter?”

“I know,” said Harry thinking quickly. “That as long as Millicent has that ring around her finger that Malfoy is still her betrothed, but as soon as she takes it off than he will be free game. And I know that you like that  
blonde, evil git for whatever reason, but you can’t have him. And I also know that if you help Millicent and me, that she will be far more likely to take that ring off. If you don’t help us then I also know that she’ll marry Malfoy out  
of pure spite.”

Pansy stared at Harry in shock. She swallowed hard before nodding her head. 

“Don’t worry,” Harry said with a smile. “I’ll never tell Malfoy that you helped free the beast that almost killed him.”

“Wait, what?” Pansy said as Harry took off toward Hagrid’s. Pansy following him. 

&&&

 

“You wait here,” Harry said, as he watched as past Harry shut the door to Hagrid’s hut. Harry waited until the executioner and the Committee member entered the hut, then he went for Buckbeak. The beast pulled against his freedom, desperately trying to get back to Hagrid, but Harry pulled harder, digging his heels into the Earth. He pulled until the beast seemed to give up and go easily. 

“Wow,” Harry breathed, before he was smacked in the face with a dead ferret.  
Pansy was throwing them at Buckbeak, making him move from his spot and into the forest. She managed it in just enough time to see the executioner and the others rush out of the house. 

“Someone untied him!” the executioner was snarling. “We should search the grounds, the forest….”

“Macnair,” that was Dumbledore. “if Buckbeak has indeed been stolen, do you really think the thief will have led him away on foot?” said Dumbledore still sounding amused. “Search the skies, if you will….Hagrid, I could  
do with a cup of tea. Or a large brandy.”

“O’….of course, Professor,” Hagrid said, smiling brightly at the thought of Buckbeak’s escape. “Come in, come on in….”

“Now what?” asked Pansy, impatiently. “We have your giant flea ridden bird, now what?” 

“Now we wait,” said Harry, shortly. “We have to go to the Womping Willow.”

“The what?!” Pansy shrieked. 

&&&

Pansy waited beside Harry barely making a sound. Pansy shuddered beside him as the sky started to darken. 

“What?” asked Harry. “Don’t tell me your afraid of house elves and the dark?”

“I’m not afraid of house elves,” Pansy said like that was the dumbest thing in the world. “Who’s afraid of house elves?”

“But the boggart?”

“Oh,” Pansy said, finally catching up to what Harry was talking about. “That’s different,” she said. 

“Because you knew that one? What did she do beat you over the head or make you go to bed without your dessert?” 

“Huh,” scoffed Pansy. “No dessert, ever,” said Pansy. “But that was more my mother’s doing than Mrs. Tizzy’s. Mother had and still has this chronic fear of my gaining weight. How will she ever marry me off if I’m as big as  
Bulstrode?”

“That’s disgusting,” said Harry. “Don’t talk about Millicent like that, she’s a better witch and a better person than you’ll ever be. Prettier, too.”

Pansy nodded, not even trying to fight back. 

“Maybe she is,” Pansy conceded. 

Harry looked at the tree, but nothing was happening. Yet. 

“Mrs. Tizzy always liked Millicent,” Pansy said when Harry thought she wouldn’t say anything anymore.

“Yeah?” asked Harry, encouraging her to continue. 

“Yeah,” said Pansy. “She hated Draco though. She always called him an underbelly brat. I told her not to call him that, that I was going to marry him one day, but then she just called me Mrs. Brat. But I didn’t mind. She’s still the  
only person who has ever been able to talk to me like that.”

“Do you see her when you go home?” Harry asked. 

Pansy stiffened. 

“Not anymore,” she said. 

“What happened?” 

Pansy’s jaw seemed to tighten, but she didn’t cry. 

“House elves are useful, until their not,” she said. “When they reach a certain age, they retire.”

“Where?” Harry asked. Harry had learned a lot about pureblood culture these past few years, but he hadn’t heard anything about house elves getting to retire. 

“I didn’t think slaves got retirement benefits.”

“She wasn’t a slave!” Pansy screeched. 

“Sure,” Harry said. “And I’m sure you didn’t make her wear a dirty bedsheet or some other thing with no shoes. And I’m sure that she had a room as big as yours and that you let her eat at your table.”

“Of course not,” said Pansy, disdainfully. “That wouldn’t have been appropriate.” 

“Then what, Parkinson, tell me how she lives now? Does she at least get your room while you’re at school or do your parents beat her like your beloved little underbellie’s parents beat Dobby, or tell me, did you have that privilege  
of disciplining the slave?”

“I never laid a hand on her!” Pansy looked so livid, Harry thought she was going to turn her wand on him. “I loved her!” said Pansy. “I loved her, and she’s dead, and I hate myself for it. I hate this damn school, and my mother and everyone, but HER!” 

Pansy started to sob then, and Harry was terrified by the sight. 

“I’m sorry,” said Harry. “I didn’t know that she…that she was dead.”

Pansy wiped at her tears like they were traitors that she was sentencing to their deaths. Then she turned on Harry. 

“Do you know what it means for a house elf to be retired?”

Harry shook his head, but it wasn’t necessary. 

“Yeah, well neither did I. Mrs. Tizzy was my nurse elf. That’s what she was taught to do and that’s what my parents had always had her for. She was getting old, but she could still do her duties. She still rocked me as a  
baby, and fed me. She was the one that was there when I learned how to walk, and who bandaged my hands when my tutors got a little rough with me. She was the one who took care of me when I was sick and who brushed my  
hair. She was the one who held me when I cried, and told me that I was beautiful no matter what my mother said. She told me that my nose was perfect and that I was good and kind, though I knew even then that none of those things were true. 

We are our parents, Potter. Remember that, if you don’t remember anything at all. It might save your life one day. And I, I am my parents. I was so excited to be starting school. I knew that I would be one of the best, and my mother had told me how important it was that I find a match and behave myself so that I could get married one day. I told her that I would. And I told Mrs. Tizzy that one day she could come and live with me. I told her that she could take care of my babies like she took care of me. And even if she couldn’t hold them for very long, or if she had trouble lifting them, that I would help her sometimes. 

My mother would have been horrified by the idea of me offering to do a house elf’s work, but I would have done anything for Mrs. Tizzy. 

The day I left, my parents told me that Mrs. Tizzy would be retiring. I nodded, assuming that meant that Mrs. Tizzy would be sent to our winter estate or something to do light labor instead of the steady work that she was doing then.  
I asked if I would still be able to see her for Christmas and my parents told me, of course I would.”

Pansy steeled herself. Her shaky voice calming. 

“But when I went home for Christmas and asked to see her my mother got this odd look on her face. She took me by the hand, and let me outside. I wondered why Mrs. Tizzy was in the garden. It was too cold, but I would bring her inside and I could tell her all about Draco and how he wasn’t the an underbelly brat anymore like she once thought he was. But my mother led me to a part of the grounds that I had been forbidden to go to before then.”

Pansy stopped herself for a second before pushing on. 

“Retirement means that the house elf is put down.”

“Like a dog?” Harry demanded to know, feeling like he was going to be sick. 

“Quite,” Pansy said. 

“My mother told me that it was simply the way things were done. I spent every day of that break out there where Mrs. Tizzy’s grave was trying to apologize to her, wanting to be near her, then when my mother told me  
that I couldn’t do that anymore. I went to the library and went through the books. There had to be some way to bring her back, something that I could do for the one that had done everything for me since I was an infant.”

“But you couldn’t find anything?” 

“My father burned the back of my hands for even trying. Even my dragon hide gloves didn’t keep them from hurting. He only healed them before I went back to school. We are our parents, Potter, and I realized that as surely as my  
parents had retired Mrs. Tizzy that I had done the same thing. And that one day I would be required to do the same thing. I told them that I would. I told them that I was okay. That she meant nothing to me. That I would forget.”

“But you didn’t.”

Pansy just shook her head. Harry nodded. He could feel that it was getting close to time. 

“Maybe you’re not all bad, Parkinson.”

“No, I am,” she said. “You’re as right about me ass you’ve always been, Potter. I am mean, petty, nasty and cruel. I believe in pure blood, and I think your friend Granger and everyone like her are abominations, but that  
elf…” she paused. 

“That elf was the closest thing to a mother and a friend that I had for a very long time.” 

“And yet you denied her any rights.”

“She had no rights!” Pansy screamed as loud as she could. “And she still wouldn’t if she were alive now. That’s the law!” 

“Yeah,” said Harry. “And the law is ridiculous.”

Pansy moved to defend herself, but Harry silenced her. 

“Here we come!” said Harry. 

Pansy and Harry got to their feet. Buckbeak raised his head. They saw Lupin and Millicent then the others. Harry’s heart was starting to beat very fast. He glanced up at the sky. Any moment now, that cloud was going to move  
aside and show the moon…..

“Lupin,” Pansy breathed in shock. “He’s a….he’s a...”

“That’s right,” said Harry. “and here I thought you knew all the gossip that went on in Hogwarts.” 

Harry watched in rapt attention as the scene unfolded as it had before. It was different being a spectator instead of a participant. More surreal. And he had to crush his nails into his hand to stop him from going after  
Pettigrew. He couldn’t mess this up. He had to save Sirius and if that meant letting Pettigrew go, then so be it. 

 

Harry and Pansy followed the sound of the crying wolf, but somehow found themselves on the other side of the lake watching as Hermione fell to the ground, Sirius rolled over, weak and white faced, and saw himself try and try again to conjure the Patronus that would save them all. He knew that someone would show up, nearly right where they were standing. He knew that someone would come and cast the Patronus that would save them, but he waited and waited, and nothing happened. 

“No one’s coming to save us,” he said. 

Pansy looked horrified as she watched the scene across the side of the water, but Harry had been so sure. Was so sure that the Patronus that he had seen had somehow been cast by his father. He had thought it was a miracle or  
an apparition, but….but then. 

Harry walked to the edge of the water and watched as the dementor lowered its hood and watched as his face across the lake froze in fear. Then he cast the spell, “EXPECTO PATRONUM!” 

And a large beast burst from his wand. It was a stag. 

Harry felt elated as he watched the stag bound across the lake and scatter the dementors as easily as wiping crumbs from a table. 

“Potter?” Pansy said in awe as the pair of them watched the dementors flee. Harry watched the other him stare back at him across the lake and Harry raised hand to wave at him, like, he realized, he had done before.  
Then, he turned to Pansy, their job wasn’t done yet. 

Harry waited until he was sure that Sirius was locked away, and then he and Pansy took flight. He had to get to Sirius. Harry blasted through the lock on the room Sirius was in, and the man shielded himself from the  
blast. The look on his face when he saw his godson was breathtaking. He had really thought that he was going to be locked away again or worse. Harry ran to his godfather and hugged him tight. He didn’t know this man, not really, but his parents had loved him, and that meant everything. 

“And this is one of your friends,” Sirius asserted, looking at Pansy who was standing near the corner of the room looking for all intents and purposes like this was the last place she wanted to be caught. Harry had carefully taken her wand off her when she had slid off Buckbeak, and was now glad that he did. 

“Absolutely not,” Pansy replied, which oddly made Sirius smile. Harry walked Sirius to Buckbeak and told him to get on. 

“He’ll take you where you need to go,” said Harry. 

“What if where I want to be is right here with you?” 

Harry’s throat tightened. He wanted that too. He wanted what Sirius had offered him. He wanted to be with him and Remus, to be a family. He wanted for the first time in his life to have a home with people who loved and  
wanted him. He wanted to eat dinner with his family and hear stories about his mom and dad. He wanted to be close to them in a way that he had never felt around his blood relatives. 

“Soon,” Sirius said, grabbing Harry’s shoulder affectionately. “I promise.” 

“Soon,” Harry echoed and then Padfoot was flying away into the night. 

Harry and Pansy made it back to the infirmary in just enough time to see their past selves vanish. 

“You’re back,” Hermione said from the floor. “I’m surprised you didn’t kill each other.”

Pansy scoffed. “After forcing me to save that nasty beast that hurt my Draco, getting dirt on my new robes in the Forbidden Forest, nearly getting us kissed by dementors, tossing me onto the beast that nearly killed my boyfriend  
then saving a convicted and wanted criminal, no, dear Potter, death would be too good for you.”

Harry nearly giggled at the look of horror on Pansy’s face, but knew that the girl would stay satisfied and silent since she was getting what she wanted most. Harry turned to check on Millicent then, but the girl was  
already stirring. 

“Potter?” Pansy called.

“I’m here, Mill,” he told her, walking over to her bed. 

“We have to get out of here,” she said urgently. 

“What?” Harry said. “No, you’re safe. We’re back at the school.” But Millicent was throwing off the covers over her legs and rising from the bed. 

“Millicent Bulstrode get back in that bed right now!” Hermione shouted at her, but the girl waved her off. 

“We have more important things to do right now than that,” said Millicent in a weird tone. 

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked. 

Millicent laughed then, grabbing her cloak from the corner of the bed. She threw it on then stalked toward the door. 

“Are you coming or what?” she asked the group. “Because we’ve got a rat to find.” 

 

&&&

 

Little known fact about pureblood engagement rings: The tracking spell comes with the ring. Only some activate it. Lucky them.  
While Millicent was in the tunnel with Lupin she had idea. With all of that Slytherin cunning she knew that they had to cover their asses in case somehow Harry’s brilliant plan and the weak binds around Pettigrew’s wrists  
weren’t enough to hold him. So, she had made a decision. 

“You gave the Malfoy bonding ring to a rat!” Pansy shrieked at the top of her lungs when Millicent told the group what she had done. 

“Ms. Parkinson,” Snape reprimanded. While Dumbledore said, “Ms. Bulstrode?” in a whisper like he couldn’t believe that what she told him was true. 

“Then that means…” Harry had said. “We have to go. We have to go now.” 

Pettigrew was found hours later in a trash can outside of Wolverhampton, England. The aurors had taken him captive and then delivered him to Dumbledore. And there in the presence of the Minister for Magic, Dumbledore,  
Professors Snape and McGonagall, Harry, Millicent and Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew was forced to confess under veristserum what he had done not only to Harry’s parents but also to Sirius Black. 

With Pettigrew’s confession officially on file, Sirius Black was put on probation pending further investigation. He would be sent to live with Remus Lupin until the whole matter could be sorted. Pettigrew would be going to Azkaban, where he belonged, Harry thought. After the ministry got all the information out of him that they could, Harry hoped they would let him be tossed to the dementors. 

After the Minister of Magic and the aurors had left with Pettigrew. Snape nodded stiffly at Dumbledore then left without a word. Professor McGonagall left, too, after telling Harry that even though he had helped save an innocent man of a most cruel fate and had finally corrected an over a decade long mistake that he was still a student and thus, needed to be in bed. Soon. Then she left him with Remus and Dumbledore. 

“So,” said Harry. “Do you think you’ll be able to live with a mad criminal like Sirius Black?” he asked Remus. 

Remus chuckled. 

“I’ve lived with Sirius in one way or another for over eight years. I may be a little out of practice, but I think I can handle it.” 

Remus smiled and for once Harry thought that no one would have noticed the scars on his face or his second hand, threadbare robes because Remus Lupin looked so incandescently happy, then as if his smile couldn’t  
get any bigger the fireplace lit green, and Sirius Black stepped into view. 

Harry nodded at him as if to say, “If not now? When?” Then Sirius ignoring Dumbledore’s open smile and Fawkes looking onward curiously walked straight up to Remus Lupin pulled the other man into his arms and then  
kissed him fiercely. 

Remus kissed back like he was a man who had been living with a death sentence hanging over his head, but now, who was out free of that curse. And Harry couldn’t have been happier for the two people who were  
perhaps the most important people in his parent’s lives. 

“Sirius,” Remus said, his voice reverent. His eyes washed over Sirius’ face as Sirius’ studied him in the same manner. 

“Moony,” Sirius said in that same tone, and Harry nearly had to look away the happiness in both of their faces so blinding. 

 

“Excuse me, gentleman, but you have a fireplace to catch,” said Dumbledore. The man held up a old watering can and set it on a table. “Home?” Remus said, pulling away from the other man slightly. 

Sirius merely nodded, looking for all he world like he was already there. 

“I’m sorry about your employment here, Remus,” said Dumbledore. Remus only nodded. 

“What do you mean?” asked Harry. “You’re not going to teach Defense anymore?” 

Remus shifted uncomfortably on his feet. 

“No, Harry, it seems as if the word got out about my, uh, condition, and soon enough the owls will be arriving from parents who don’t want their children being taught by a werewolf.” 

“But that’s ridiculous, you’re the best defense teacher that we’ve ever had. You can ask anyone.” 

Remus smiled at the praise, but shook his head. 

“I’m sorry, Harry, but there are some things that we can’t change. Besides I’m going to have to watch Sirius twenty-four seven. And you don’t want to know how much of a task that usually is.”

Sirius laughed at the surely inside joke, but looked at the other man fondly. 

“But you’ll write to me, and I’ll get to come and see you?” 

“Of course,” said Sirius and Remus at nearly the same time. 

“Harry,” said Remus. “You are one of the best students I’ve ever taught. You have a great affinity for Defense, and you are a great leader among your classmates. You are also a good friend, and have acted as one to me. So, thank  
you.”

“Harry,” said Sirius as Remus was pulled away to talk to Dumbledore. “This isn’t the end, this is only the beginning. You, me, Remus, your friends, Millicent and that Granger girl. You saved me Harry. You saved me from a fate worse than death. You saved me from a life without you in it.”

And Harry fell into his godfather’s arms because he was tired and happy and all he really wanted to do was go to sleep. “I’ll miss you,” Harry said. 

“I’ll miss you, too,” said Sirius, hugging Harry tighter than he has ever been hugged by anyone. 

“But I promise,” said Sirius. “As soon as I am 100% cleared by the Ministry you will come to live with me. We’ll be together, a proper family.” 

Harry nodded. He could wait. He had waited this long for a real family and a real life, he could wait a little longer if it meant that he could have this. 

Sirius and Remus waved at him one more time before they stepped into the fireplace and the green flames took them away. 

 

&&&

 

Harry returned to his room, and slept like the dead. Happy with the knowledge that his friends were okay. Sirius was free. Remus was happy. So, he slept. 

When he woke the next afternoon, it was due to a rather heated discussion going on in the common room. His housemates were all talking about Professor Lupin. 

“but I really liked Professor Lupin,” said Nott. 

“You still can,” said Harry as he entered the common room. Nott looked like he had been caught slipping someone a love potion. 

“But he’s a dirty werewolf,” Nott said, like that settled everything.

“Yeah,” said Harry sternly. “And is that you or your parents talking, Nott? Professor Lupin was good to you. He was good to all of us and didn’t deserve to be kicked out. Especially not by those bitter about failing in  
defense, considering how well they do in all their other classes.” Harry looked at Tracey Davis, who ducked her head meekly. 

“And definitely not by nasty bigots and their families who are still living in the Dark Ages.” 

“You know nothing about our families!” cried Crabbe indignantly from the couch. 

“Yeah,” said Harry. “but I’m learning. And every new thing I’ve learned makes me feel sicker than the thing before.” Then he turned his back on his house mates and started to walk away. He stopped when he heard Marcus Flint’s  
voice. 

“If it wasn’t for Professor Lupin I wouldn’t have my spot with Bulgaria.” 

“What?” asked Adrian Pucey. Harry turned around. 

“He helped tutor me in defense, got my grades up.” Flint looked at Nott. “And right now, I can tell you that I don’t care if he’s a dirty werewolf or halfblood or whatever because I’m getting out of here. And he helped me  
to do that,” Harry thought that Marcus’ words were more than just about leaving Hogwarts. “Hell,” said Flint with a pointed look at Nott. “Maybe I’ll even buy him some new robes.” Then he seemed to come back to  
himself, “Goodness knows he needs them.” Harry laughed quietly at Flint’s brusque words. 

Then after making himself clear on the subject of Professor Lupin, Flint followed Harry out of the common room. “Good luck, Potter,” said Flint, shaking Harry’s hand. “You’re gonna need it.” 

“I have to know,” said Harry, stopping Marcus as he started to walk away again. 

“What, Potter? I’m meeting someone.”

“Why did you do it?” Harry asked. “Why did you throw the last match?” 

Flint didn’t flinch and he didn’t try to deny it. He merely shrugged his shoulders. Then he answered, “Because Wood needed a win. I’ve always said that there was nothing more to me than Quidditch, and there’s not, and Wood has always been the only one who has understood that. I told him that day of the match that I wasn’t going to take it easy on him. I told him that I wanted this game to be the best one we’ve ever had. And that I have always loved playing against him the most because no one else was as fun to beat, but also because he’s a great player. And that no matter what happened that he deserved a spot with United.” 

Flint turned his back on Harry, like he thought he would reveal too much if Harry could see his face. 

“I threw it because for once seeing Wood win was better than seeing him lose.” 

&&&

 


	10. Chapter 10: Final Final Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rushed the last chapter so here is the one I originally had planned. No more adding though, I promise.

Ron’s leg healed. Fred mercilessly teased Millicent about being engaged even for a short while to a rat. The Malfoy ring was returned to Draco and most likely being burned for purification purposes. Harry saw Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint playing a pickup game during the day, and it was a sight as the two master players were finally playing just for fun.

Harry knew that it would take time for Sirius to be free entirely, but he was glad that his days at Pivet Drive were numbered. 

Malfoy and Millicent’s engagement was officially off and the girl had never looked happier. 

“So, how long before you’re engaged again, Bulstrode?” asked Fred as they waited to board the train. 

“I’m sure there’s already a line forming,” she answered distractedly. “So you better hurry up and grab a number.” She smiled brightly at Fred who if Harry wasn’t mistaken was sporting a but more red in his cheeks. 

“You wish, Bulstrode.” 

Millicent flipped her hair to the shaved side and blew him a kiss as Ginny Weasley laughed at her brother’s retreating back. 

Harry felt a thump to his back. Malfoy had bumped into him then sneered at him until he caught site of Millicent. 

“Feeling a little on edge, Malfoy?” asked Millicent. “Maybe you need some tea, I could make a few suggestions.”

Malfoy paled then called for his minions and Pansy who looked all too pleased to be at his beck and call. 

“What was that about?” Harry asked Millicent. 

“Remember that tea I gave Malfoy loads of for his pre-bonding?” 

Harry shook his head. 

“It was hysteri-tea,” she said and if Ginny hadn’t been laughing before she sure was now. 

Harry was oblivious. “I don’t get it.” 

Ron walked up and asked what was going on. Ginny leaned over and whispered something in his ear, and he too, started laughing. 

“Oh, Bulstrode, you even have Fred and George beat on this one,” said Ron.

Harry was still blank, as the three purebloods giggled together. 

“It’s a tea used by a special clientele,” said Ron. 

Then Millicent, “It’s a tea that used to be given to really hyper children. Their parents noticed that when they gave them the tea the   
kids would quiet down, but when they overused it, the kids were worse than ever. They would flip out at the most simple things and go into a downright panic when anything so much as startled them. After those discoveries the use of the tea was banned from the ministry.”

“Until you gave it to Malfoy,” Harry said, finally getting it. 

“Yup,” she said. “I’ve been giving it to him all year, which might explain a few of his more, uh, interesting moments.” 

Harry thought back at Draco nearly throttling Nott when he almost bumped him into the water in Defense Against the   
Dark Arts, and when the panicked looks and said, “You’re an evil genius.” 

“You know it, and don’t get on my bad side, Potter.”

“Never,” said Harry. 

Hermione sat in their compartment on the train. She had given her Time Turner back to McGonagall. On the ride back to London,   
Harry got lost in his friends conversation, only stopping when he got a letter from Sirius and Remus saying that they would see him   
soon.

 

&&&

Back at the Dursley’s, Harry marched upstairs to his room, Uncle Vernon on his tails. “You already have quite the list of chores, Potter, so I wouldn’t suggest getting comfortable.”

Harry knew that wouldn’t be happening any time soon. 

Then just as he was about to close his school trunk for the last time until the summer was over, he heard a knock at the door and smiled, Aunt Petunia’s voice echoing loudly. 

“And who do you think you are?”

Harry heard the footsteps of someone entering the house, then a voice saying, “I’m Harry’s godfather, and I think it’s time we had a little chat.”


End file.
